


your everything is still offensive (what a feeling)

by orphan_account



Series: your everything is offensive [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Body Image, Body Worship, First Time Blow Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Orgasm Denial, Rimming, Self-Esteem Issues, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-14 13:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5745370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years later, Seungkwan Boo is still a crybaby, and Seungcheol Choi is still the reason.</p><p>Or, how two awkward teenagers explore sex, along with everything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you [unamused emoji] me

**Author's Note:**

> omg this was intense hahahaha I didn't even think I'd touch this universe again but here I am and writing for my OTP again and I'M JUST SO EXCITED TO GET BACK TO IT
> 
> it's hard getting that kind of rating without any swearing I'm so amazed I got 10k words in without a single curse word
> 
> special thanks to AO3 user seungkwanin for the neverending love and support and AO3 user rbeccaemily for being a real live American I can ask all my stupid questions to. you guys are the real MVP. [heart emoji]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they talk. way too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seriously, this chapter is maybe 80% dialogue. I feel like there was no other way to tackle this.
> 
> also, I finished this at two in the morning so some bad decisions were made towards the end haha I'm so sorry

Seungcheol Choi is a good influence, Seungkwan thinks as he watches his boyfriend bring the casserole dish to the table, wrap his arm around his mother’s shoulder, then place a kiss on her cheek before telling Mrs Boo that it smells _so_ good. It really does, piping-hot and covered in a layer of bubbling cheese; the fresh leaves of basil his mother’s torn on top smells minty and of anise, fragrant and cool and refreshing. Seungkwan’s seated at the table already after setting it up, mouth watering.

Mrs Boo swats Seungcheol’s hands away, telling him to wait another few minutes so that the lasagne would keep its shape, and Seungcheol behaves, taking his seat beside Seungkwan on the table and sneaking in a kiss to Seungkwan’s mouth when Mrs Boo turns her back to get a pitcher of water from the fridge.

“You’re making me look bad,” Seungkwan whispers.

“I want to eat her food even after we break up,” Seungcheol whispers back. Seungkwan hits him on the shoulder.

“As if my mom will love you after that.”

“As if I’ll ever break up with you.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he says, but the corners of his lips quirk upwards until he has to hide how satisfied he looks, turning his face to the opposite direction while Seungcheol lets out a laugh, his arm warm and heavy on Seungkwan’s shoulders. His mom comes back with the water and serves them all salad before cutting into the lasagne and putting large slices on all their plates.

“Are you eating enough there?” asks Mrs Boo.

Seungcheol shrugs as he slices up a forkful, replying, “I think so, but it’d be nice if you cooked there” before he eats. “See? This is _amazing_ , Mrs B.” Seungkwan snorts at that, but he gets what Seungcheol means—sometimes Seungkwan feels like crying just so his mom will make him some fried rice to comfort him, and nothing else could ever really compare.

Mrs Boo preens—really, no one is safe from Seungcheol Choi—and gives him another slice, the corner piece with all the crispy edges, and Seungkwan’s maybe just a little bit smug about it, smiling into his salad.

After dinner, they form an assembly line—Seungcheol washes up, Mrs Boo dries, and Seungkwan puts away the clean dishes. Seungkwan loves how Seungcheol rolls up the sleeves of his sweater so he doesn’t get the cuffs wet because Seungcheol has nice arms, thick and solid, and Seungkwan can look at it all he wants.

“Everything’s good to go now, right, Mrs B?” Seungcheol asks.

“Yes, dear.”

Seungcheol smiles at Seungkwan, who takes it as his cue to run out of the kitchen, up the stairs, then to his room where Seungcheol catches up to him, impossibly large grin on his face and hands on either side of the doorframe.

“ _No_ tickling,” Seungkwan warns. Seungcheol steps closer to him, making Seungkwan cover up his neck in protection and double over when Seungcheol reaches for Seungkwan’s sides. “I _hate_ you, Seungcheol Choi—”

“I had a long week, babe,” Seungcheol says, smiling widely when he manages to dig his fingers into Seungkwan’s side and Seungkwan breaks down into a loud laugh, clutching at his stomach and trying to swat Seungcheol’s hands away.

“ _This_ is how you destress?” Seungkwan demands. He’s starting to get paranoid, ghost fingers tickling at his neck; his sides are beginning to ache, too.

“How do you want me to destress?” Seungcheol goes for Seungkwan’s neck, laughing at how Seungkwan curls his neck against his shoulder. 

“Ugh, I’m going to _kick_ you—ah—” Seungkwan manages to break free of Seungcheol’s grip then runs to the opposite side of the bed, one hand covering the side of his neck while the other covers up his sides.

Seungcheol clambers onto the bed, then reaches for one of Seungkwan’s arms, trying to get him on the bed, but Seungkwan manages to wrench his arm free, running to his desk to throw his pencil case at Seungcheol.

“Stay there,” Seungkwan warns.

“Gladly.” Seungcheol stretches out an arm and places it under his head. “Aren’t you going to come here?”

Seungkwan stops. “Do you promise not to tickle me?”

“I don’t know.”

“I could watch TV with my mom downstairs, Seungcheol Choi.”

Seungcheol pouts, using his free hand to pat the space on the bed left. “Come on, Seungkwanie,” he calls. Seungkwan crosses his arms from his side of the room, leaning on his study desk until Seungcheol relents. “I promise,” Seungcheol says finally, and it’s only then that Seungkwan uncrosses his arms and walks slowly to the bed.

Sometimes, Seungkwan forgets how strong Seungcheol Choi can be, but is reminded of it when Seungcheol grabs Seungkwan’s arm and pulls him onto the bed, flipping them over so that Seungkwan’s caged beneath Seungcheol. “You’re so rude,” Seungkwan huffs.

“Hi,” is what Seungcheol says. He has his bottom lip caught between his smile, eyes dropping their gaze to Seungkwan’s lips, so he ducks his head down to give Seungkwan a kiss, light and sweet and short. “Hi,” he says again, then proceeds to kissing Seungkwan over and over again on his mouth, “I missed you.”

Seungcheol lifts up his head so he can kiss Seungkwan on the forehead, trailing his mouth down to Seungkwan’s cheek then back up to Seungkwan’s eyelid and down his nose, and Seungkwan smiles, lets out a tiny giggle. “I missed you, too,” Seungkwan tells him.

“Really?” Seungcheol teases. “It’s only been six days.”

“You said it first,” Seungkwan grouses. “One day, you’re going to miss me more than I miss you.”

“I already miss you more,” Seungcheol says, and Seungkwan wants to punch him in the gut. Instead, Seungkwan takes this opportunity to bring up two fingers to the spot under Seungcheol’s ear that makes him laugh, and Seungcheol’s entire neck just curls in on itself. Then Seungkwan goes for Seungcheol’s sides, Seungcheol squirming until he falls down on the floor, dragging Seungkwan with him, and he looks apologetic when he realises what just happened. “Are you okay—”

“Don’t ask me,” Seungkwan grouses, his breath knocked out of him. “You’re the one who fell on your back.”

“I’d tell you if it hurt.”

“You wouldn’t.” Seungkwan brings their faces together until the tips of their noses are touching, giggling when Seungcheol goes cross-eyed. “I _know_ you, Seungcheol Choi.”

Seungcheol wraps his arms around Seungkwan’s waist, on the small of his back, and plants a kiss on Seungkwan's mouth. “You do,” he concedes. “How’s Mrs Smith, by the way?”

“Ugh,” Seungkwan groans, “she still asks after you.”

“Really?” Seungcheol grins. He teases Seungkwan, “she loves me.”

“She does,” Seungkwan complains. “That paper you sent me from that journal thingy really helped.”

“Really? I was worried it was reaching.”

“No. Mrs Smith could tell that you gave it to me, told me I’m lucky I have access to that kind of stuff.”

“What else did she say?”

“Ugh, you’re just fishing for compliments,” Seungkwan complains. “She said you got a perfect score on everything.”

“She’s exaggerating,” Seungcheol deflects. “She was really harsh on my first essays.”

“I’m pretty sure her harsh to you is like her really nice to me,” Seungkwan says. “In any case, if I want to match the grade you got, I’d have to do a lot of extra credit work.”

At that, Seungcheol knits his eyebrows together and asks, “why?”

“For once, I wanna be on your level,” Seungkwan tells him. He’s a junior now and has about half of Seungcheol’s workload in high school—two advanced placement classes and one honours class and no, like, foreign language or musical instrument or newspaper whatever to keep him busy and no part-time job either. “You’re making it ridiculously hard,” he adds, making Seungcheol frown, and now Seungkwan feels a little guilty bringing it up.

For a few moments, neither of them say anything. Seungcheol brushes Seungkwan’s hair away from his face, trails the backs of his fingers down Seungkwan’s cheek and his nose. Seungkwan wants to apologise, but he finds it caught in his throat. When Seungcheol finally does speak up, he says, “hey—wait, can you get up?” as he nudges Seungkwan.

Seungkwan gets up and sits on the bed with his feet tucked under him. Seungcheol follows and does the same, linking one of Seungkwan’s hands in his and rubbing circles on the back of it with his thumb. Embarrassed, Seungkwan keeps his head down, tracing circles on his bed sheet with his free hand.

“Hey,” Seungcheol says again, “were you thinking that this whole time? Do you really think I’m better than you?”

“It’s kind of just… a given, you know?” Like this, Seungkwan’s kind of glad he doesn’t have to face Seungcheol; the way Seungcheol's voice sounds is enough to get Seungkwan a little sad. “Like, you’re smart, and everyone knows that. You’re also really charming and hot—at least, to me, but…” Seungkwan’s voice trails off and he bites his lip. Seungcheol squeezes his hand.

“Did someone tell you that?”

Seungkwan looks up, thinking he’ll never be ready for the way Seungcheol is frowning at him at this moment. “No one did,” he says. “It’s all just me; I’m really sorry.” He feels like crying, his throat getting all tacky and stuck and gross, but there aren’t any tears yet. “I’ll shut up about it,” he mumbles.

“That won’t change your mind,” Seungcheol tells him gently. “I’m not holding anything over you, you have to believe that.”

“That’s it,” Seungkwan says, and he’s just so _annoyed_ —everything was _good_ earlier, good and easy and painless. “Like, even now you’re just, like, so much better, like there’s nothing that gets to you—”

“ _This_ is getting to me,” Seungcheol forces out. He doesn’t sound mad, but he might as well be; Seungkwan withers a little under his gaze, enough to duck his head back down. “Two _years_ , Seungkwan. I never knew.”

It was _one_ carelessly timed comment… Seungkwan feels the tears starting to prick at the corners of his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, but he doesn’t know what for—sorry for bringing it up at all, sorry for being an idiot, sorry for not being good enough. “I thought you knew when I asked you to help me with math—”

“Not being good at math doesn’t mean you’re dumb,” Seungcheol says. “Besides, math just takes practise. You can learn to be good at math.” He frowns when Seungkwan shakes his head. “What? Am I wrong?”

“No. Just…” Not getting the same grades his boyfriend got hurt a lot, more than Seungcheol would know, and— “It sounds stupid,” Seungkwan says, shrugging it off.

“It won’t,” Seungcheol reassures him, tone softening down to a little bit above a whisper as he ducks his head down to try to meet Seungkwan’s eyes. “I want to hear it.”

“ _I_ don’t want to hear it,” Seungkwan says.

Seungcheol sighs and runs his free hand through his hair. “Is it just about my grades?” he asks. Seungkwan shakes his head again, a tear coming out when he closes his eyes. “Is it my looks?” Seungkwan has to mumble out his no, shaking his head all the while. “ _Seungkwan_.”

“I just try, okay,” Seungkwan bites out. “I try too much and it’s never, like, right”—he hiccups and has to wipe the snot from his nose with his hand, snuffling after and fisting the bed sheet—“and you don’t, so, like…” He pulls back when Seungcheol tries to wipe his face, lowering his face even more until Seungcheol can only see the crown of his head.

“I don’t know what to say,” Seungcheol admits. “I get lucky, I know that. I’m not as hardworking as I should be, but that doesn’t mean I don’t try. You know that, right?”

Seungkwan nods, sniffles, feels a little silly.

“You also know it’s not enough that I love you, right?” Seungkwan literally just stopped crying, but now he feels like flooding again; he whimpers when Seungcheol rests his hand on Seungkwan’s head. “You’re too hard on yourself,” Seungcheol adds, quick to stroke Seungkwan’s cheek when Seungkwan lifts his head up and withdraws both his hands so he could wipe off the grossness with his shirt.

“I should—I should change,” Seungkwan says thickly. “My shirt’s all nasty.”

“Me, too.”

“Go change in the bathroom.”

Seungcheol pouts. “I want to change here.” He reaches for the back of his sweater to take it off as if to prove a point. His arms and chest and _stomach_ are suddenly very visible, and there’s a cough hiding in Seungkwan’s chest that wants to come out, but he swallows it down.

“Then _I’ll_ go to the bathroom,” Seungkwan says with a roll of his eyes. “You’re so demanding.” He gets up to get his clothes from his closet, but Seungcheol pipes up, “can’t we change here together?” and Seungkwan stops at that, tries not to look at Seungcheol Choi’s bare torso otherwise he’ll have to start crying again because it’s real and he can touch it but he’s also grossly covered in snot and tears.

“I mean,” Seungcheol continues, “it’s not a big deal, right? It doesn’t mean anything.”

“You want to see the booty, that’s what it means,” Seungkwan counters. He laughs and pinches Seungcheol’s cheek. “You look like a sad puppy.”

“So what if I am a sad puppy?” Seungcheol pouts further. He reaches for his bag by the foot of the bed to get another shirt, but Seungkwan stalls him, wrapping his arm around Seungcheol’s neck and kissing him. Seungcheol brings Seungkwan down to straddle his hips.

“Can I?” Seungkwan asks when they pull away. Seungcheol nods, and Seungkwan ghosts his hands over Seungcheol’s torso before laying them flat on his chest to feel the toned muscle underneath. “I love having a hot boyfriend.”

“You’re a hot boyfriend, too,” Seungcheol offers.

“Next time,” Seungkwan tells him, “when I’m not all snotty and mad at you for making me cry.”

“You don’t look mad.”

“What you said made sense, too. Hey, I need to do my night ritual. You should have a shirt on when I get back.” Seungkwan stands up again, gets his clothes, then goes to the bathroom, and when he comes back with his face clean and moisturised and totally not swollen, Seungcheol’s gotten beneath the blankets, leaving just enough space for Seungkwan to slot himself neatly into.

Seungcheol wraps his arms around Seungkwan as soon as Seungkwan lies down with his back to Seungcheol’s chest, drawing the blanket over them both, and kisses the back of his ear. “Let’s sleep?” he suggests.

“It’s, like, nine pm, Seungcheol Choi.” Seungkwan yawns and has to concede when Seungcheol laughs, “yeah, okay, I’m exhausted.”

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol apologises, “for making you cry.”

Seungkwan covers Seungcheol’s arms with his and shrugs as much as his position allowed. “It was going to come out,” Seungkwan tells him. Like this, with Seungcheol pressed up against his back, nice and warm, he can say anything. He adds, “I’ve been, like, competing with you in my head for a really long time.”

“God, you’re like that One Direction song.”

“Which one?”

“Their first one.”

“I forgot what that was, maybe you should sing it for me,” Seungkwan teases, laughing. Seungcheol hums the first few bars, and Seungkwan shuts him up before he gets to singing any of it, turning around and clamping Seungcheol’s lips together with his fingers.“No, not my favourite song. You’re going to ruin it.”

“Promise me you won’t be like that song.”

“Seungcheol,” Seungkwan whines, “you’re so cheesy.”

“I need to say it,” Seungcheol whines back. “What if you don’t get it?”

“I get it,” Seungkwan deadpans. “I do, I swear. Don’t say it or I’ll—”

“Promise me you’ll know you’re beautiful,” Seungcheol cuts him off, and Seungkwan wants to hit him so hard that the sleepiness is shaken out of his body, but he just huffs and turns back around, Seungcheol laughing behind him.

The tiredness comes back as soon as it went; Seungkwan pointedly says, “good night” then tries to get them both to sleep by closing his eyes, but it’s Seungcheol who falls asleep first like he always does—Seungcheol tries to even out his breathing so he could sleep, but Seungkwan catches every little hitch, until it eventually smoothens out and Seungcheol begins to snore lightly, faint whistles of air that become more prominent once the night settles in and everything else goes quiet.

 

***

 

“Morning,” Soonyoung yawns, eyes disappearing. He hitches his backpack up, holding on to the straps with his thumbs, and peers behind Seungkwan into the doorway, his head tilting to the side. When he catches Mrs Boo, he smiles and gives her a wave of his hand. “Was Seungcheol here? I thought I saw him last night.”

“Someone was snooping,” Seungkwan deflects, “but, yeah. He wanted to sleep, so he went to my house.”

Soonyoung’s eyebrows knit together. “Why? You forced him to sleep?” he asks. They start walking past the driveway with Seungkwan adjusting the cuffs of his jeans, shifting into a hop every now and then.

“He wouldn’t feel guilty if I did,” Seungkwan explains, cuffs in place so he begins to walk normally, “so, yeah, he’s sleeping right now.” He turns his head back to glance at his house, at the blinds covering his window, and adds, “if he does this again, I’ll kill him.”

Soonyoung laughs. “He’s going to be fine,” he reassures Seungkwan. “He’s a big guy.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “His roommate thinks an egg makes ramen a balanced meal. Even my mom worries about him.” They go round the corner, where Seungkwan steps over a puddle of pee by the fire hydrant while Soonyoung goes the other side, then stop at the pedestrian crossing. “I know he’s older, but, like, he sucks at being by himself,” he rants.

“You sound like you have your work cut out for you,” Soonyoung notes. Seungkwan preens at that until Soonyoung adds, “you’re practically his mother.”

The crossing is clear, so Soonyoung steps forward to go, but Seungkwan pulls him back. “ _Hyung_ , no, don’t say that, don’t give him ideas—” He gets interrupted by Soonyoung flicking him on the forehead, so he slaps Soonyoung’s arm in retaliation. “That hurt,” he grumbles.

“You’re freaking out again,” Soonyoung reprimands. He shrugs his sleeve out of Seungkwan’s hold and starts walking, not stopping even if Seungkwan has to speed up to match his pace.

“You called me his _mother_ ,” Seungkwan stresses once he’s caught up. “Was I supposed to like it?”

“I said you were practically his mother, especially with how you smother his choices out of him.”

“I do _not_ —He wants it,” Seungkwan whines. Soonyoung scoffs, and Seungkwan is trying really hard to not jostle him with his backpack because Soonyoung Kwon is really not a morning person. “He knows he won’t get away with doing work when he’s at my house, so.”

“So?” Soonyoung raises an eyebrow at him. “I don’t see the issue here. Seungcheol Choi sounds like he likes being babied.”

“And you really think I’m the kind of guy who likes having to baby him?” Seungkwan huffs. “ _He_ should be babying _me_.”

“I gave you a compliment, Seungkwan Boo,” Soonyoung grouses, “so appreciate it.” Seungkwan lowers his head and pouts, holding onto his jacket with tiny fists. Soonyoung laughs at that and wraps his arm around Seungkwan while pinching Seungkwan’s cheek with his free hand. “You’re a good match for Seungcheol hyung, okay? Remember that.”

Seungkwan sighs as he rubs his sore cheek, but at least he’s proud and preening again. His boyfriend is sleeping soundly in his room and will wake up to a nice breakfast prepared by his mom and clothes already laid out for him after he takes a shower. “You’re right,” he concedes, “I baby him a lot.”

“Wouldn’t he be busy today, though?” Soonyoung wonders aloud.

“He wouldn’t slack off like that,” Seungkwan says with a shake of his head. “I’ll kill him again.”

“You used to be terrified of him,” Soonyoung remarks. Seungkwan snorts, ears heating up as Soonyoung continues to tease him. “How did you tell him you liked him again? A letter?”

“Shut up.” It’s not as if Seungkwan could forget any of it—living through the embarrassment, Seungcheol telling him he’s straight, laughing at Wonwoo’s jokes out of fear. “By the way, have you applied anywhere yet?”

Soonyoung hums. “I tried for that one in New York, Juilliard. And Jihoon says he’s going to NYU, so he wants to look at places we can stay together,” he answers. Seungkwan laughs at that and Soonyoung kicks him at the back of his leg.

“Ow,” Seungkwan complains. They stop so Seungkwan can massage his sore leg. He sticks his tongue out at Soonyoung and adds, “you guys are a lot gayer than we are. Places together, really?”

“We’re in the same year,” Soonyoung tells him as he helps bring up Seungkwan so they could go to school before the first bell rings, “and it beats trying to get along with new people. We were doing homework last night, and Jihoon gets up without saying anything. He comes back then tells me he crapped in my bathroom and if I want nachos.”

Seungkwan wrinkles his nose. Jihoon hyung is too much sometimes, really. “Gross.”

“I’m used to him,” Soonyoung says with a shrug. “See, this is why being roommates would work. I bet you’d do the same with Seungcheol hyung if you were the same age.”

“Don’t rub it in,” Seungkwan groans, “and I wouldn’t.”

Soonyoung looks at him with surprise, and asks, “really?” Seungkwan nods. “Why not?”

“He can’t cook,” Seungkwan answers plainly, and Soonyoung bursts out laughing, hand reaching up to play with Seungkwan’s hair. “Hey, you’re gonna mess up my hair.”

“I’m going to miss you a lot,” Soonyoung tells him. He’s still laughing, wiping a tear from his eye. “I bet you wouldn’t marry him because he can’t cook.”

“I’m not that shallow,” Seungkwan says, deflecting the comment with a wave of his hand. He shrugs off Soonyoung’s arm and leads them to his locker first. With Seungcheol gone, it feels like he’s in the first semester of last school year all over again, with Soonyoung walking him to school in the morning and home in the afternoon. He opens his locker and hands his math textbook to Soonyoung, who lets it fall to the ground instead of catching it, but Seungkwan doesn’t pay it any mind. “You know, this is the first time you asked me about Seungcheol. Like, not offhandedly.”

“Really?” Soonyoung frowns then lowers himself to pick up the book, saying, “I’m pretty sure we’ve talked about him before” as he dusts it off then hands it back to Seungkwan.

“We weren’t together then,” Seungkwan reminds him. “He’s nothing like I expected he’d be.” He closes the door of his locker, and Soonyoung asks him if it’s a good thing, making a slow smile spread through Seungkwan’s face as he admits, “yeah he’s a lot better.”

Soonyoung makes a face. “I didn’t ask for this,” he says. “Just go to your class. Shoo.”

 

***

 

It takes a while for Seungcheol to wake up properly, shaking the initial thickness and confusion from his voice away from when he first wakes up, and he nudges Seungkwan on the shoulder. “Seungkwan…”

Seungkwan knows; it’s pressing against his butt, so he reaches for his phone on the bedside table, reads the time, and offers, “go to the bathroom; my mom already went to the supermarket.”

Seungcheol lets go of Seungkwan and falls against the bed, whining, “I’m lazy.”

“Too bad,” Seungkwan notes. There should still be some eggs, maybe enough to make a substantial scramble or an omelette. Cereal’s always in the cupboard, but they finished the milk yesterday. There’s leftover lasagne; he’s read somewhere that he can reheat it on the waffle iron, and that sounds like a really good idea.

“Can I do it here?” Seungcheol asks.

“With me in the room?” Seungkwan wrinkles his nose. “No way.”

“You’re my boyfriend.”

“That doesn’t mean you can.” Seungkwan stands up and adds, “I’m going to go make breakfast. You… take care of little Cheol in the bathroom. I don’t want it on my sheets.”

“I’ll do it in my pants.”

“Whatever. Just keep it clean.”

Once Seungkwan’s reached the kitchen, he hears the door to the bathroom close and lets out a laugh as he preheats the waffle iron. Seungcheol comes out some ten minutes later, sneaking in the a bit of cold lasagne that falls away from its slice when Seungkwan lays it out into a plate, and Seungkwan slaps his hand away, demanding, “did you wash your hands?”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “I did, and I wiped everything down. No cold bits, okay?” He places his hands on Seungkwan’s shoulders and kisses him on the cheek.

“Of course. Go set the table.”

The reheated lasagne comes out with lots of crispy edges, and Seungkwan is pleased with himself when he puts down the plate on the table. He takes his seat beside Seungcheol and reaches for one with his fingers, licking off the grease that comes away on them.

“How was it?” Seungkwan asks.

“Nothing new.” Seungcheol puts a forkful into his mouth. “This is _so_ good.”

“This is the first time you ever brought it up” is what Seungkwan says in an attempt to steer the conversation back, but the lasagne-waffle thing _is_ good and he needs to tell his mom about it. “Like, ever.”

“What are you talking about?”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “Sex, Seungcheol.” Seungcheol chokes on his food, making Seungkwan slap him on the back. “No big deal, right? I do it, too.”

At that, Seungcheol laughs. “I honestly thought you didn’t,” he admits.

“What, did you think I was, like, some sort of asexual chicken—”

“Because,” Seungcheol interrupts, “we don’t talk about it. Like how you apparently have self-esteem issues—”

“Shut _up_.” Seungkwan’s face is burning and he just wants to maybe lock himself up in the shower and exfoliate until he’s red. He takes a drink of water then says, “but, yeah, I _do_ want to talk about it. Like…” There’s a question on the tip of his tongue, but thinking about it makes him squirm. “I don’t know.”

“Are you saying you don’t know or…”

“ _Just_ —Okay, but don’t laugh.”

Seungcheol chews up one last forkful, wipes his mouth with a table napkin, then turns to face Seungkwan properly. Seungkwan does the same, too, and Seungcheol reaches for Seungkwan’s hands to play with them, rubbing circles on the palms. “We’re both embarrassed,” Seungcheol says slowly, “okay? But we need to talk about this, then we’ll talk about last night.”

Seungkwan makes a face. “Can we not?” At Seungcheol’s face, he quickly adds, “I was kidding. God.” It takes another minute or so for him to get out his question, and even then it falters. “What do you think of? Like, when you… uhm… touch little Cheol.” He bites his lip and looks up, and Seungcheol Choi is impossibly pink in the face, mouth twisted like he doesn’t want to answer but his shoulders are shaking from laughter, so Seungkwan pulls away from Seungcheol’s grip and shakes him. “Hey, I asked you something.”

“Is little Cheol going to be the running theme here?” Seungcheol asks as he wipes a tear from his eye. “Are we going to talk about this using little Cheol as a crutch?”

“I _panicked_. Just answer it.” It could be big-boobed porn stars for all Seungkwan knows… or something along the lines of James Dean and Marlon Brando, which Seungkwan wouldn’t complain about. Ever.

“You,” Seungcheol confesses in a voice so small Seungkwan nearly gives up trying to understand him, but it couldn’t be any other word anyway. “Us. Together.”

Who the hell is Seungcheol— “Thank you?” Seungkwan finds himself saying, and he wants to bury himself under the kitchen floor or go back to bed so he can pretend he was dreaming.

Seungcheol bursts out laughing and Seungkwan slaps his shoulder.

“What would _you_ say?” Seungkwan demands at Seungcheol’s outburst. “Say I tell you you’re what I think about when I get my morning wood, what would you say?”

“Really?” Seungcheol answers. “I mean, like, really ‘really’. Then I’d ask you like how. What was I doing? Were you there?”

“You pervert,” Seungkwan complains. “So what was I doing?”

“Who’s the pervert now?”

“I’m protecting myself in case your fantasies get a little weird,” Seungkwan says with crossed arms. “Tying me up is a no-go.” Seungcheol giggles as if he’s guilty and Seungkwan hits him again. “Hey! So you _were_ tying me up. Bet you were calling me nasty things, too.”

“I _wasn’t_ ,” Seungcheol stresses. “It’s… sweet.”

“Oh, god.” Seungkwan wants to vomit. Why is Seungcheol Choi always like this? “ _Sweet_ ,” he repeats, and it’s just so _gross_. He stacks up the dirty plates, eating the last piece with his fingers, so he doesn’t have to look at him.

“The dirty stuff happens with anonymous bodies,” Seungcheol offers.

“ _Seungcheol_.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow at him and asks, “did you want me to lie? Sometimes I like it when they beg or do it on the bus. I’m not always a roses in bed kind of guy.”

“But you are with me,” Seungkwan notes. He’ll ignore that Seungcheol Choi practically admitted to two things he’s into, and he’ll ignore the idea that maybe Seungcheol’s making it sound more ideal than it really is and probably does imagine Seungkwan alongside of those things. “Why?”

“You’re the first guy I ever liked,” Seungcheol says with a shrug then refills both their glasses, “and probably the last. I want it to be special. Besides, every other time, it’s always girls.”

“Making love to me but disrespecting girls?” Seungkwan jokes, but his voice rises slightly, making him sound panicked and nervous and antsy, and _that_ makes Seungcheol frown. “It’s not like I have a say about what you think of when you… touch little Cheol…but—”

“You sounded kind of…”

“I choked. God, let me rest. Anyway, I’m not judging you.”

Seungcheol snorts. “Thanks for that,” he says drily. “But what about you? You just confirmed that you… do it with little Boo—”

Little Boo. Seungkwan wants to punch him, but he knows he set the whole thing up—it was inevitable. The return of the spotlight on him makes him anxious, too, and he’s torn between shifting the conversation back to Seungcheol or just avoiding the question outright. “I hate you,” he says instead. “Also, it’s basic. Just, like, hot guys. Liam Payne.”

“Is that it?” Seungcheol looks amused, giggling a little when Seungkwan mentions Liam Payne.

“What do you want me to say?” Seungkwan demands.

“What about with me?”

“Why do you care?” Everything is so stressful, and Seungcheol Choi is an idiot. Seungkwan didn’t sign up for this, and he really hopes his mom comes back from the grocery soon.

“I care,” Seungcheol says, “because it means you want it. And, like, I’ve been thinking about it lately.”

“It’s illegal.”

“I know,” Seungcheol sighs. “I can wait, but, just—You think about me, right? Like, with little Boo.”

“Say that one more time and I’ll never talk about this again,” Seungkwan threatens, though he’s not entirely serious about it. He feels the stress bubbling up inside him, turning into a lump in his throat that he needs to cough out. “I _did_ call you hot last night, remember? God, Seungcheol Choi, stop looking so smug.”

Seungcheol does look satisfied, like he just won the lottery or had Kendrick Lamar compliment his awful rap skills, and he brings their chairs closer together so he could kiss Seungkwan on the cheek. “You think about me,” he says happily, and _dear god_.

“You’re gross,” Seungkwan grouses. “I like Liam more sometimes, you know, but, whatever. I _do_ think about it, too. I’m not an asexual chicken.”

“There’s a ‘but’ somewhere there,” Seungcheol prompts.

“Yeah, I mean, your dead butt will go to jail if you touch me, that’s one. And… I don’t know. I’m not ready for it yet, I think,” Seungkwan says. “I’ve touched your bare chest, like, once.” Two years and only seven minutes total of a shirtless Seungcheol Choi—they’re so very behaved; Seungcheol is too good at tiptoeing, but Seungkwan’s even better. He reaches for his glass of water and drains it.

“So you’re saying you want to know me better? A gradual kind of thing?” Seungkwan nods. “I kind of get it now, too, though,” Seungcheol muses. “There are so many things you haven’t told me, and having sex now… wouldn’t be right.”

“They’re about you, that’s why.”

“But I want to know them,” Seungcheol insists. “Or, at least, whatever’s integral to our relationship.”

“Ugh, can we clean up first?” Seungkwan suggests. “I’ll tell you in my room.”

They get up and gather the dishes. Seungkwan opens the door of the barely used dishwasher and puts the dirty dishes inside, dragging Seungcheol back to his room once it’s up and running. Once in his room, he locks the door, sits by the head of his bed with his feet tucked under him, and points at the foot of the bed for Seungcheol to sit. “There’s a lot,” he warns.

“We don’t have to do it all right now,” Seungcheol says gently. He’s so patient sometimes, with the strength of an old man, but can one-eighty into a child in a flash. “Just tell me whatever you feel like telling me.” Instead of sitting up like Seungkwan does, he lies down and tucks his arms under his head for a pillow, and Seungkwan is secretly glad he doesn’t have to look Seungcheol in the eye.

“It’s all just… compounded,” Seungkwan says. He tilts his head up to the ceiling and fixes his gaze on it, letting out a deep breath. “Like, last night. And today. It’s all connected. I’m not ready because…” College ruined Seungcheol Choi—now he pays attention to how Seungkwan uses language and looks into even the differences between intensities of words, but Seungcheol will have to forgive Seungkwan for messing up anyway. “Because I still feel immensely lucky to be with you and it could’ve just been a dream all along, and you’re making me say some really embarrassing things, Seungcheol Choi—”

“You’re digressing.”

“Whatever. I’m just saying that it wouldn’t be right to do stuff with you if I keep thinking that you’re too good for me. See? We’re back to last night. If I cry again, it’s on you.” Seungkwan nudges Seungcheol’s side with his foot and a pout, but Seungcheol stays quiet, chewing on his bottom lip.

Eventually, Seungcheol turns on his side to face Seungkwan, saying, “somehow I think this is my fault” slowly and Seungkwan kicks him for it.

“It’s _not_. You’re just impossibly nice,” Seungkwan complains. “If you’re going to say something weird, just don’t.” Seungcheol frowns but doesn’t say anything, and Seungkwan watches him shift around until he returns to lying on his back, playing with his mouth. With a sigh, Seungkwan stands up and says, “I’m gonna take a shower,” leaving Seungcheol on the bed.

 

***

 

Seungkwan swears it’s Seungcheol Choi downstairs—every time Seungcheol planned a surprise was ruined because Seungkwan could hear everything, even when his mom tries to keep the television on low—so he needs to remind Seungcheol that the noises in the house carry. He hears the door close and Mrs Boo asking Seungcheol if he’s eaten and if he would like some of the beef stew she made for dinner. She’s already cleaned up the kitchen, but if it’s Seungcheol asking, she’d start up everything again and make him fresh food.

“No thanks, Mrs B,” Seungcheol says. Mrs Boo continues to fuss over him still, making Seungcheol laugh. “I don’t want to be a bother! I just wanted to see your son.” He takes the stairs two at a time, his heavy feet loud on the staircase, so Seungkwan pretends he’s trying to do work when Seungcheol comes in his room and tries to hug Seungkwan from behind.

“It’s Thursday,” Seungkwan says. Seungcheol should be at school, maybe microwaving his dinner in his room, but he’s here, kissing the top of Seungkwan’s head and smoothing down his hair.

“I know.” Seungcheol squeezes Seungkwan tighter and in a small voice says, “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” Seungkwan tells him, “but I have homework.”

“Me, too.”

“Really.”

“ _Yes,_ really. Your mom said we could stay in the kitchen.” Seungcheol helps Seungkwan bring his stuff down to the kitchen, where his laptop was already set up beside a stack of books and his calculator.

“Hey,” Seungkwan says as he places his laptop on the table and sits opposite Seungcheol, “help me with this. I have to write about a short story.”

Seungcheol looks up just as Seungkwan hands him some sheets of paper. “Just tell me what it’s about,” he tells him. He eyes the title from the paper and raises his eyebrow. “‘The Happy Prince’?”

“He’s not so happy in the story,” Seungkwan offers.

“I know. I read this, too,” Seungcheol says. He puts a chip in his mouth and with his mouth full, adds, “just talk about the statue itself. Like how in its full splendour, it made no one as happy as when it was stripped bare.”

“So what?” Seungkwan asks. Nevertheless, he starts typing out his essay, trying to keep what Seungcheol said in mind.

“It’s a basic reading, isn’t it? You’re not happy until you share what you have. You don’t even have to contextualise it.” Seungcheol reaches for his glass of water and drinks from it. He notices how Seungkwan looks at him, so he asks, “What?”

“That sounds really simple,” Seungkwan says slowly.

“It’s supposed to be.”

“I thought you’d complicate it, like last time,” Seungkwan tells him. Seungcheol sent him a PDF from an online database for his history paper, full of unheard terms and long-winding sentences that made Seungkwan’s head hurt—he ended up not using it anyway because it was hard trying to break down and simplify the paper into something he understands and can use, but he hasn’t told Seungcheol about that. “I could’ve done a reading like that.”

Seungcheol frowns. “Of course you can.”

Seungkwan returns to his work, so Seungcheol goes back to his, too, the kitchen falling silent except for the noise their keyboards make. Like this, mouth screwed in concentration and glasses pushed up his nose, Seungcheol looks distractingly good. He notices Seungkwan looking, so he sighs and says, “you’re not working.”

“Your eye bags are so big now,” Seungkwan points out. One semester of college did so much damage—he wants to brush them away or dab them with eye cream, but all he settles for turning off his alarm for tomorrow and letting Seungcheol sleep in, no matter how numb his arms get after a night of spooning.

“We’ll go to sleep when we finish this,” Seungcheol counters. They go back to work, and Seungkwan rushes to finish his, typing up the concluding paragraph when he hears Seungcheol let out a yawn some three hours later. The yawn is big, a tear rolling down Seungcheol’s cheek when he does.

“Save your progress,” Seungkwan says.

“Why?”

“Let’s sleep.” Seungcheol shakes his head at Seungkwan’s suggestion, making him huff and roll his eyes. “Are you saving it, Seungcheol?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am.” Seungcheol clicks his tongue and waves Seungkwan’s nagging away. Seungkwan closes his laptop and goes over to Seungcheol, bringing down the laptop screen and pulling Seungcheol up by both wrists. “You’re seriously dragging me to bed?” Seungcheol then asks.

Seungcheol’s wrists feel firmer in Seungkwan’s grip, and Seungkwan loves the weight of it, rubbing the bones with his thumbs. “Don’t think I can’t,” Seungkwan warns.

“Seungkwanie,” Seungcheol begins, face immaculately somber, “you know I always want to go to bed with you.”

“What is your deal?” Seungkwan demands. The tips of his ears feel too hot; he can feel them radiate heat. “I’m going to kick you.” 

“I had three hours of sleep today, so you probably—Hey!” Seungcheol wrenches one of his hands free from Seungkwan’s grip to rub where Seungkwan raised his foot to kick Seungcheol on the thigh. “That wasn’t necessary,” he grumbles.

“Didn’t you have an all-nighter before that? Whatever, just give me your hand.” Seungcheol returns the hand he’s gotten loose into Seungkwan’s grip. Seungkwan doesn’t let go of Seungcheol, even as they approach the stairs, so he loses his footing and stumbles getting up on the first step, and he feels like kicking Seungcheol again for laughing. He whines, “you don’t have to laugh” with a pout. Seungcheol closes the distance between them, feet on the step below Seungkwan’s, and kisses him, but Seungkwan makes a face when Seungcheol pulls away. “Ew,” he says. They start climbing the stairs again—Seungkwan turns his head back every other step to make sure he won’t trip—until they reach the hallway of the second floor.

Seungcheol says, “let go.”

“Why?” Seungkwan challenges.

“So you can open the door,” Seungcheol answers. He looks behind Seungkwan, eyes drifting down, and Seungkwan turns his head to look, too.

Seungkwan faces the door to his bedroom and his mouth falls open slightly. “Oh.”

They spill into the room, and it isn’t long before Seungkwan is ushering Seungcheol to the bed and climbing in after. He tells Seungcheol to face the other side so he can wrap his arm around Seungcheol and press his nose to his nape. Seungcheol smells less like nice laundry soap and a little more like generic body soap on top of a layer of slight sweat and musk—more lived in, like he has no time for minor details anymore, but he smells a little more real to Seungkwan.

“Are you sleeping?” Seungkwan asks softly. Seungcheol groans out his answer, his even breathing eventually replaced with snoring after a few moments. Seungkwan doesn’t fall asleep right away; he pets Seungcheol’s hair, which was matted down with sweat, until his vision begins to feel heavy and he nods off.

Seungkwan’s alarm is the loudest and most obnoxious one that comes in his phone settings, and Seungkwan winces when he feels Seungcheol stir beside him, so he hurries to turn it off then gets up after a few minutes, laying a kiss to Seungcheol’s temple before getting ready for school.

“Hey, mom,” Seungkwan says when he goes down for breakfast, “please don’t wake up Seungcheol.”

 

*******

 

“Why didn’t he say anything?” Seungkwan demands from Mingyu that Monday at lunch. (He’s left out the entire bit about little Cheol, going for an extremely streamlined version that Mingyu will understand in fifteen minutes without embarrassing Seungcheol in the process.) Mingyu looks pained and glances at Vernon for help, but Vernon is on his phone, his lunch pushed farther down the table. Seungkwan draws Mingyu’s attention back to him with: “Was it such a hard thing to reply to?”

“I don’t know,” Mingyu says finally. He runs a hand through his hair and fidgets with the packet of salt that came with his fries. “If you told _me_ that, I wouldn’t know what to say either.”

“It’s not hard,” Seungkwan whines. “He just had to say I’m good enough for him, right? Wonwoo hyung would get it.”

“Don’t be so sure about Wonwoo hyung,” Mingyu tells him. “Seungcheol hyung’s good with words, too, normally. You just said the one thing he didn’t have a reply for. Stop pouting like that.” Seungkwan pulls the tray he just pushed away back to him and puts a piece of broccoli in his mouth with a frown. “Was that what you wanted to hear anyway?”

“Well,” Seungkwan begins before swallowing, “yeah.”

“Maybe…” Mingyu muses, “he thinks it’s not what you need to hear.”

“Yeah,” Vernon echoes. He doesn’t look up from his phone but Seungkwan turns to face him anyway. “I mean, I’d tell my girlfriend what she wants most of the time—”

“Me, too,” Mingyu pipes up glumly. “She broke up with me anyway.”

“Well, that,” Vernon acknowledges, “but, you know, that’s not how a relationship works. It’s not like being gay makes it any different, right?”

Mingyu snickers at that; Seungkwan wants to hit them both and leave, but Jihoon and Soonyoung are having lunch in college, roomie-ing it up with three-day old pizza and beer, and he realises with a frown that all he has left is the ragtag remains of Seungcheol’s group of friends plus the sophomore with the Michael Jackson fixation that Soonyoung took under his wing.

“Whatever.” Seungkwan clears his throat and cleans up his tray. “I just had no one else to talk to,” he adds.

“You should talk to him about it,” Mingyu suggests.

Seungkwan makes a retching sound. “It sounds so naggy,” he complains.

“I’m pretty sure hyung wants to help you with your self-esteem issues,” Mingyu says not unkindly. From his phone, Vernon nods his agreement. “You’ve been together since forever.”

Calling it ‘self-esteem issues’ makes Seungkwan cringe like mad. It also weighs down on him a lot, so he stays quiet until the end of lunch, when Vernon taps him on the shoulder and reminds him he’ll be late for history. Seungkwan makes Vernon wait for him while he gets his things ready, then walks with Vernon to his chemistry class first. Outside the cafeteria is a table for prom, and Vernon drags him over to buy tickets for him and his girlfriend.

“‘Midnight in Paris’,” Seungkwan reads the sign. He sticks out his tongue and complains, “it’s such a cheesy theme.”

“I thought you’d like prom,” Vernon says as he elbows Seungkwan for making the prom committee glare at the pair. “Two tickets, please.”

“I _love_ prom,” Seungkwan corrects him, “so I want it done right.” He’s also maybe watched _High School Musical 3_ a little too many times. 

“So you’re not going?” Vernon asks. One of the prom committee hands him two tickets, dark blue and glittery with a silhouette of the Eiffel Tower on the left and looping silver script on the right. Vernon hands them a pair of bills. “Thanks.”

“Are you kidding? I waited two years to go to prom, so I’m going.” Seungkwan turns to face the students handling the booth and asks for two tickets.

“You’re going with hyung?”

Seungkwan looks at him. “Why not?” he challenges. “I know he’s too old for it but he’s a jerk if he won’t go with me.”

“He might be busy,” Vernon argues. “How about you buy one ticket first then buy another when you’re sure he’s going?” Seungkwan huffs, so Vernon rolls his eyes and asks for just one in Seungkwan’s place, holding out his hand for Seungkwan’s payment before dragging him away to his chemistry class.

“Hey—”

“You’ll thank me later,” Vernon cuts him off. “Swear. Now go.”

Seungkwan runs to his class. His teacher is headed towards the classroom from the opposite direction, so Seungkwan hitches his backpack up his back and makes a break for the door, gripping the doorframe as he rushes inside a few seconds before the teacher walks in. He gives her a string of apologies all the way to his chair, where he plops down and whips out his phone, keeping it under the desk as he types up a text to Seungcheol: _Prom in three weeks. You coming?_

It takes a while for Seungcheol to reply, and when he does, the phone vibrates hard enough to threaten falling off his thigh, but Seungkwan catches it in time. Seungcheol sends him the thinking emoji. _When is it?_ he asks.

_Three weeks from now_ , Seungkwan texts back. _Please please please_ —

_I have an exam_ , Seungcheol tells him. Oh. It’s like Vernon could tell the future or something. Before Seungkwan could reply, Seungcheol sends another text: _I’ll check again_. He doesn’t send any more after that, so Seungkwan drops his phone into his bag andthanks his teacher for deciding to do a recap of the lecture last Friday before proceeding with the next lesson. When he gets out of class, Seungcheol texts him, _yeah, I really can’t_ with a sad emoji.

Mingyu catches him in the hallway, his next classroom along the same way as Seungkwan’s, and frowns when he sees Seungkwan hovering his prom ticket over the trash can.

“What kind of jerk professor arranges a final exam on a Saturday evening?” Seungkwan fumes. “What’s his problem?” Mingyu snatches Seungkwan’s ticket away from him and goes for one of Seungkwan’s arms so he can drag him to their classrooms but Seungkwan pulls his arm away.

“You should chill,” Mingyu says.

“I’m _chill_ ,” Seungkwan stresses with a grit of his teeth. He crosses his arms and glares up at Mingyu. “That professor has no chill.”

“It can’t be helped,” Mingyu tells him. “If hyung really can’t go, then I’ll go with you.”

Seungkwan’s surprised enough to loosen his arms, so Mingyu grabs one of his wrists and starts walking. “Wait, you’ll buy me a corsage?”

“You’re wearing a dress?” Mingyu asks. Seungkwan steps on his foot, making Mingyu hiss in pain. “It was an honest question.”

“I’m gay, it’s not a requirement,” Seungkwan grumbles. “Are you serious though?”

“Yeah. I’ll buy you the corsage for your suit or whatever,” Mingyu says. Seungkwan relents and stands on his tiptoes to kiss Mingyu’s cheek, who makes a face and furiously rubs his cheek with his hand to wipe off all traces of Seungkwan on it. “Don’t.”

“You’re so nice!” Seungkwan protests. He reaches up again as a joke, laughing when Mingyu sets him down. “Seriously, hyung, you’re the best. Better than Seungcheol.” He clings to Mingyu until they both reach Mingyu’s classroom then reminds him to get his own ticket and that he wants a classic red corsage.

 

***

 

“There’s an afterparty,” Mingyu says when he takes his seat again. He hands Seungkwan a cup of water, who drinks it all in one go, then sinks into his chair, neck shiny with sweat. “Wanna go? It’s at Seokmin’s house. I can get you drunk.”

Seungkwan thinks of Seungcheol at home, watching TV with his mom, then shakes the thought out of his mind. He’s off somewhere celebrating the end of finals week, probably. “I should…” he says slowly then chews on his bottom lip.

“Yeah, you should,” Mingyu tells him. “I mean, I get that you like the dancing and corsage thing, but this is way better. Last year was at Wonwoo hyung’s house. He didn’t even go to prom.” Vernon laughs and agrees to go, and so does his girlfriend, but Seungkwan shakes his head. “Come on, Boo. One hour, you can chill with my friends, and you won’t get drunk, unless you suck, then I’ll walk you home.”

Mingyu Kim is awfully persistent. “One hour,” Seungkwan stresses as he holds up an index finger to prove a point. At least he didn’t outright say no. Once the prom was announced over, he lets Mingyu lead him and Vernon to Seokmin’s house.  It’s a big house with a basement where everyone was gathered around two kegs of beer or at the small bar some girls set up.

“Where’s Seokmin?” Mingyu asks one of Seokmin’s friends, who’s gotten a headstart on the beer and is looking at them with lots of blinking.

“He’s prom committee, right? They’re still cleaning up,” she tells them.

“Stay there,” Mingyu tells Seungkwan, pointing at the couch that was mostly empty save for a girl sitting on someone’s lap.

Seungkwan sits as far away from them as the couch allowed, then waits for Mingyu to come back. It takes a while; he can see Mingyu trying to squeeze himself in the crowd surrounding the beer kegs. Mingyu eventually comes out and goes to where Seungkwan’s sitting, handing him beer in a red cup while Vernon drags his girlfriend along to the sound system to change the music.

“Drink up,” Mingyu says. He sits on the arm of the couch next to Seungkwan, now too tall for decent conversation.

“Sit on the floor,” someone tells Mingyu, pulling him down from his perch to drag his butt to the ground, beer sloshing out of the cup to stain his shirt.

“Rude, Myungho,” Mingyu complains.

Myungho sits on the arm of the couch and smiles smugly down at Mingyu. “Get me one, too,” he says, laughing when Mingyu stands up with the face of a kicked puppy then goes back to one of the beer kegs. “You’re Seungcheol hyung’s boyfriend, right?” he then asks Seungkwan.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan answers. He takes a sip of his beer, the bubbles hitting him hard at the back of his throat before dissolving into bitterness. The next sip isn’t so bad, but he thinks he’d rather have the sweet-looking drinks that are coming out from the table at the corner.

“Cool” is all Myungho says before Mingyu comes back and shoves a cup into Myungho’s face.

“You were nicer last year,” Mingyu gripes at Myungho. Another guy comes in to wrap his arm around Myungho’s thin shoulders, his other hand plucking the cup from Myungho's hands to drink from it. “Seokmin agrees with me, right, Seokmin?”

“Hm?” Seokmin returns the half-drained cup to Myungho. “About Myungho being nicer? Joonhwi hyung changed him,” he says finally, then takes his seat beside Mingyu on the floor. “Hey, it’s Seungcheol hyung’s boyfriend.”

“Who are you?” Seungkwan asks, eyes flitting between Seokmin and Myungho. Seokmin bursts out into laughter, the large, booming belly laugh that fat rich guys have, and Myungho snickers. “I’m serious.”

“We have a class together,” Mingyu explains. “Was it homeroom?”

“Theater?”

Myungho waves it off. “It doesn’t matter,” he tells Seungkwan not unkindly. “You should drink.”

Mingyu drawls, “he’s still a kid. One cup’s enough.”

“You’re scared Seungcheol hyung will kill you,” Seokmin teases, reaching in for Mingyu’s cup, but Mingyu bats him away and finishes his cup right in front of Seokmin, wiping his mouth after.

“He’s not like that,” Seungkwan pipes up. His cheeks heat up when Myungho turns to the side and extends his legs across Seungkwan’s lap, looking at Seungkwan as if he’s deep in concentration. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t care about stuff like this.”

Mingyu snorts at that. “You haven’t seen Seungcheol hyung get mad.”

“Nah, Seungcheol hyung won’t do that to Seungkwan,” Seokmin comments. “He loves him a lot.”

Well, okay, if strangers think that—

“Don’t listen to them,” Myungho says. “They’re just messing with you.”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan says weakly, not wanting to admit that his heart started beating insanely fast and his stomach started twisting, “I know.” He takes another sip of his beer, wondering where all the bubbles had gone.

“Seungcheol hyung’s a total softie,” Seokmin adds. He leans back, his wrists resting on his knees, and calls for one of his friends to give him a beer. “You look like you’re gonna cry.”

“What?” Seungkwan raises a hand to cup his cheek then tries to school his expression into something else. “I swear, I’m not—”

“If we make you cry, he’ll get mad for real,” Mingyu says.

“ _Shut up_ ,” Myungho stresses. He ruffles Seungkwan’s hair. “Wanna play a game?”

“What game?” Seungkwan asks. It’s only been forty-five minutes.

“King’s Cup.”

“Just the four of us?” Seokmin asks. Mingyu calls Vernon and his girlfriend to come play with them, while Seokmin stands up to get a bottle of something, three cups, and a stack of cards.

“You can make me drink everything,” Myungho reassures Seungkwan. “If you get an eight, pick me. I’m the eight.”

“So, rules,” Mingyu starts. “Ace, everyone drinks. Two, you pick someone else. Three, _you_ drink. Four, touch the floor. Five, girls. Six, guys. Seven, heaven. Eight, pick a mate. Nine, bust a rhyme. Ten, categories. Jack, make a rule. Queen, ask a question. King, you put something in the cup. Last king drinks everything.”

Seungkwan wrinkles his nose, but follows Myungho to sit on the floor, his cup now empty.

“Get the king, Boo. It’s fun,” Mingyu says with a grin. “Should we start?” Five minutes left. Seungkwan thinks they’ll make it through at least two people before he starts bugging Mingyu to bring him home like he promised. “I’ll go first.” Mingyu gets the card from the top of the stack then places it face up for everyone to see. His face falls when he sees it’s a three while Myungho laughs and Seokmin pours into the cup, handing it to Mingyu who drinks it all and makes a face. “That’s nasty.”

“Me next,” Myungho says. “Nine. Food.” He points at Seungkwan.

“Rude,” Seungkwan says.

“Good,” Vernon’s girlfriend says.

“Hood,” Vernon adds.

“Fast food,” Seokmin says. Mingyu hits him. “What?”

“What kind of rhyme is ‘fast food’?” Mingyu demands. He pours into the empty cup and thrusts it at Seokmin. “Drink.” He catches Seungkwan looking at his phone and goes, “wait, what time is it?”

“Like, twelve-thirty?” Seungkwan answers.

“Oh, yeah, I said I’ll bring you home.” Mingyu stands up and helps Seungkwan, who sits there dumbly and is lifted up easily. So Mingyu Kim does remember. “I’ll come back for round two.”

“Bye,” Myungho says, waving at Seungkwan.

“Stay safe,” Seokmin pipes up.

“Say hi to hyung for me,” Vernon tells him.

The quiet is a huge change from the basement of Seokmin’s house. The only other lights on are the street lamps and one window of a house down the street. Mingyu asks Seungkwan to lead the way and if he’s cold, shrugging off his jacket and placing on Seungkwan’s shoulders without a response.

“I have my own,” Seungkwan notes drily, but he _is_ cold, and he appreciates it a lot. “Thanks.”

“Seungcheol hyung wanted me to take care of you,” Mingyu says.

“You make him sound like a mafia don.”

Mingyu laughs. “He’s not scary, like a real one, but you kinda end up thinking he’s the boss no matter what.”

“Isn’t that scary?” Seungkwan wonders.

“It’s just that he’s smart and nice, so instead of hating on a nerd like him, you just end up liking him. Plus, he made sure I didn’t flunk biology, so he’s more like a dad. He’ll help you out but you do something wrong, and your guilt will eat you up before he does.” Mingyu pauses to yawn and stretch, shaking his head. “Left or right?”

“Right.”

“You know, I really didn’t think he’d end up, you know, gay, but whatever. He really likes you.”

“Thanks. Go left here.” Seungkwan would preen any other time, but he feels too tired now, his eyes drooping. “He told me he was straight.”

“Yeah, we all thought he was. Not that it makes a difference. He’s still a solid guy,” Mingyu offers.

“I know. My house is on the next block. You know how to get back?”

It takes a while for Mingyu to say yes, but he eventually nods. “Yeah. If I get lost, I’ll get Myungho to come and find me.” They stop right in front of Seungkwan’s house. “This it?”

“Yeah.” Seungkwan heads for the door with Mingyu following. Mingyu doesn’t come in when Seungkwan gets the key from the flower pot on the adjacent windowsill and unlocks the door. “Thanks,” Seungkwan tells him once he’s inside.

“No problem. You wanna play King’s Cup again, just tell me.”

Seungkwan laughs and waves him bye before shutting the door. He only manages to toe off his shoes before giving up taking off everything else in favour of plopping down on the bed and falling asleep.

There’s a click on the door but it sounds distant and muffled, and Seungkwan swears he’s dreaming when the door opens and someone tiptoes into the room, closing it before collapsing on the bed with a heavy thud. Seungcheol reeks of alcohol, impossibly close and overwhelming, and Seungkwan realises he’s not dreaming. He keeps his eyes closed and burrows deeper into the bed, back facing Seungcheol.

“Seungkwan,” Seungcheol slurs. He’s managed to keep his voice soft, at least. Seungkwan doesn’t answer and tries to go back to sleep. Maybe in the morning, Seungcheol Choi won’t be there beside him, smelling terrible and slurring. “I’m sorry I didn’t go with you to prom. That test was so bad—I really think my professor’s a demon. Someone cried while taking the exam. I wanted to cry, too, but, like… last time I cried was when you said I was too good for you, so—yeah. That.”

He brings himself closer to Seungkwan, mouth below Seungkwan’s ear. He murmurs, “I missed you so much.” There’s a pause after that—Seungcheol pulls away and there’s some rustling before he returns to Seungkwan, radiating heat and the smell ticking Seungkwan’s nose. The whole room falls into silence again, until he hears Seungcheol let out a soft “ah” and a muffled groan.

_Oh_. Seungkwan blushes so hard he fears his cheeks and ears will fall off, but it gets his gut nice and warm, a flooding feeling inside. He wants to hear more of it—or know what Seungcheol’s thinking of.

“Seungkwan,” Seungcheol whimpers. His whimpers break into soft pants then into a high-pitched keen before becoming soft puffs of breath that eventually even out as Seungcheol succumbs to sleep. In his sleep, he reaches an arm out for Seungkwan and pulls him tight until he’s all but squeezing Seungkwan. He burrows his nose into Seungkwan’s nape and sighs, and Seungkwan thinks it’s time for him to fall asleep, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> op okay second semester started and I promised to not let my grades fall again so I'll be slower to update, but that also means I have more time to really plan this through and not be so haphazard about it so win-win, I guess?? I get better grades and you guys get better quality, though it's not yet assured haha


	2. bruh [question mark emoji]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much foreplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't know anymore??? my brain is crying???? it's 11k haha
> 
> I'm really sorry for the late update!!!! but yeah as it turns out, I always get back to writing when I have an important exam or whatever haha but!! I finished the fic after I took the exam so all is well
> 
> but yes I bumped up the rating because it was going to get there eventually and I decided to just fuck it and write sex scenes but they're not porny and idk it's not hot at all but I've always wanted to approach themes of virginity and sex exploration, especially with someone you love idk everything is safe and vanilla please don't murder me

Seungkwan finds Mingyu downstairs, on the couch perpendicular to his mother, a box on the coffee table beside a cup of tea she brewed for him and a bowl of sweets. Mingyu catches Seungkwan’s eye, grins at him, and beckons him to come nearer.

“Dude, your mom is so nice,” Mingyu tells him, and Seungkwan is smug, but Mrs Boo is even more so. She tells Mingyu to finish his tea before it gets cold. To Seungkwan, he says, “you look good.”

“You, too,” Seungkwan says, though it’s hard for Mingyu to not look good, especially now with his hair pushed back and shirt buttoned up, though it’s strained from the way his chest is pushed out. Like this, he’s sleek and tall; Seungkwan’s fifteen-year old self would never believe a guy like Mingyu Kim is his prom date, let alone how he ended up being his prom date. “I’ll look better with you than with Seungcheol in the pictures.”

Mingyu laughs then shakes his head. “You can replace it with hyung later,” he suggests.

“He’s shorter than you,” Seungkwan scoffs, offended. “If he wants to be in it, then he should’ve gone.” His mom frowns at that and shoots Mingyu, who’s frowning as well, a look.

“Come on, Boo, you know it’s not like that.”

Seungkwan sighs, “yeah, I know.” He makes his way to his mom and kisses her on the cheek. “He’ll be there next year, I’m sure,” he adds brightly just as he gives his mom a hug.

“Oh, yeah, I got your corsage thing,” Mingyu says. He gets up and opens the box, revealing a red rose cupped with leaves, then pins it on Seungkwan’s lapel. “I got the same one, so it’s kinda like we’re matching,” Mingyu adds proudly, pointing at a similar one on his lapel. “I did a great job, right?”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan agrees, unable to stop the smile on his face.

They take a photo before leaving, on an old digital camera from back in 2005, and Mingyu doesn’t shrug off the arm that Seungkwan links in Mingyu’s, which Seungkwan appreciates a lot. Mingyu even kisses Seungkwan’s mom on the cheek before leaving.

“Dude, I swear, I’d marry your mom,” Mingyu says as they walk down the street. “She’s single, right?”

“I’m not calling you daddy,” Seungkwan cuts him off.

“She brought out these chocolates with oranges in them and some cakes… I was kinda pissed you went down so early ‘cause I was still going to eat them.”

“You could have dinner with us,” Seungkwan suggests.

“You think your mom likes being called noona?” Mingyu wonders, making Seungkwan pinch his forearm. “Hey!”

“Are you seriously trying to get with my mom?”

“Your mom is seriously one of the best women I’ve ever met,” Mingyu shoots back, which Seungkwan can’t deny, ever. “Maybe hyung was on to something.”

“On to what?”

“I’d date you to get close to your mom, no lie. Or, like, she’s a bonus, you know? Maybe I really should grab dinner with you guys.”

“Forget that,” Seungkwan grumbles. “You’re blacklisted.” Seungcheol, for the night, is blacklisted, too.

“Hey, Boo, you still mad at hyung?” Mingyu reaches into his pockets for a pack of cigarettes and puts a stick in his mouth, fumbling again for a lighter. “You mind?”

Seungkwan shakes his head and answers, “I’m not mad.”

“You kinda sounded like you were,” Mingyu remarks. He finally finds his lighter then takes a long puff, blowing smoke out of his nose. Maybe that’s why he uses so much Axe, Seungkwan thinks with a slight wrinkle of his nose. Mingyu adds, “I’m pretty sure he wanted to be here, anyway,” making Seungkwan snort.

“Yeah, a college sophomore learning stuff like—what was it he telling me about again?—multivariable calculus or whatever wants to go to his high school boyfriend’s prom,” Seungkwan deadpans with a roll of his eyes. “I’m being stupid for thinking he’d do this for me.”

“He has an exam,” Mingyu reminds him.

“I know that,” Seungkwan snaps. “I’m just saying that if he _were_ free, we’d probably do something else instead of prom.”

“Really?”

“No.”

Mingyu laughs at that. “Good. You know what you want.” He taps the cigarette so the ash falls on the pavement then brings it back to his mouth, his next words coming out with puffs of smoke: “What made you think that? Vernon was telling me how much you like prom.”

“Please, hyung, part of it is the romance stuff, you know that. And, like, Seungcheol isn’t here.”

“It’s just as fun with friends,” Mingyu says with a shrug. “That’s why I invited you. Besides”—he grins—“all the girls will think it’s pretty hot I’m the gay kid’s date.” Seungkwan slaps him on the arm, but Mingyu’s grin hasn’t gone away. “Come on, Boo, look happy.”

“You’re using me,” Seungkwan whines.

“I’m _not_ ,” Mingyu drawls out with a roll of his eyes. “It’s like a happy consequence of helping you out.” He stops to put out his cigarette, crushing it under his shoes, so Seungkwan stops, too. “You’re lucky you’re my friend. I got asked to prom twice this year.”

“Must be nice being you,” Seungkwan grumbles, but he’s thankful nonetheless. They approach the school, and Mingyu brings them to the lockers first, opening his to take out a bottle of cologne and dousing himself with it. Seungkwan leans his back on the adjacent locker as he watches Mingyu fuss over his hair on the tiny mirror attached to his locker. Looking at Mingyu Kim like that makes it hard to think of him as a senior, then Seungkwan would have to deal with not having him around during lunch to eat the things he doesn’t like next school year. “Hey, hyung, what are your plans for college?”

“Don’t know,” Mingyu admits, now checking the sides of his face for pimples. “I’m torn between two, which sucks ‘cause the deadline’s so near. One of them’s where Wonwoo-hyung is and the other’s my ex’s dream school.”

“Was that important?” Seungkwan asks. “Do you like them both?”

“Yeah. I already visited them, too. Everything’s pretty equal.”

“Go with your gut, hyung,” Seungkwan offers, “or toss a coin.”

“What about you?” Mingyu asks. He puts everything in place inside the locker before closing it, then brings out his arm for Seungkwan to take, walking in the direction of the music.

“I don’t know,” Seungkwan says quietly, gaze dropping down to the floor. “Kinda wanna go to law school.” It’s the first time he’s expressed that thought aloud, to Mingyu Kim of all people, but the idea does feel a little more tangible when it leaves his mouth. Now he’d have to think of what would be a good pre-law, and the weight settles on him.

“Hell of a commitment,” Mingyu notes.

“I’m good at that.”

“And hyung’s an engineering major, right? You guys could be like a power couple or something.”

Seungkwan is smug about that and quips, “yeah, I’m the beauty and brains. He’s just the brains.”

Mingyu laughs, the music blasting from the speakers inside the room drowning it as soon as they step inside. Vernon finds them and tells them about the table they snatched near the drinks table, so Mingyu brings Seungkwan there first then asks him if he wants a photo.

“Yeah, I want one,” Seungkwan says as he straightens his lapel and makes sure the boutonniere isn’t crooked at all then practises his smile in front of Mingyu. “How do I look?”

“Cute.”

Seungkwan pouts. “I don’t want to be cute.”

“But that’s what you are.” Seungkwan isn’t cute and definitely isn’t blushing because of something Mingyu Kim’s said. “We’ll look good together.”

“Of course!” Seungkwan says happily. He takes Mingyu’s arm again and drags him to the photo booth. Mingyu stops him to fix his hair, and Seungkwan is a little too happy about Mingyu taking care in making sure every lock falls right into place, beaming up at him.

Mingyu clicks his tongue and heaves a little sigh, remarking not unkindly, “you really like prom, don’t you?” which makes Seungkwan laugh sheepishly.

“Yeah… It’s a childhood thing,” Seungkwan explains. “I wanted to be prom princess with the tiara and everything.”

“Progressive,” Mingyu says with a nod. “Not many boys want to be prom princess.”

“I’m a very special boy,” Seungkwan preens. “But I’m one hundred percent sure I won’t be prom princess.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Seungkwan shakes his head. “Everyone in this school sucks,” he complains, and Mingyu laughs again and offers him a tiara when he gets a chance to buy one. (Mingyu is such a good boyfriend, Seungkwan briefly considers asking him to give Seungcheol lessons, then remembers it’s not as if Seungcheol’s bad.) The photographer calls them both and they get it done quickly, with Seungkwan dragging Mingyu to the dance floor right after when a song he recognises as something Seungcheol likes starts to play.

The song soon shifts out into the slow cheesy song from the third _High School Musical_ movie, and Mingyu leads them in a slow dance—he steps forward while Seungkwan steps back, and Seungkwan wrinkles his nose at how cheesy it is despite his insides bubbling with something that was a mixture of relief and joy and embarrassment.

“Thanks again, hyung,” Seungkwan reaches on his tiptoes to say in Mingyu’s ear, so that he doesn’t have to shout above the music.

“Call me any time you need a fake date,” Mingyu says back to him with a grin, lowering his entire torso to reach Seungkwan’s ear then pulling him in for a hug, and it gets Seungkwan emotional enough to ask if they can sit down for the next round of songs.

 

***

 

Seungcheol snores. He snores quite a bit, loud and gross, and it keeps waking Seungkwan up in the ungodly hours of the morning. Seungkwan sighs and stares at the ceiling, occasionally twisting his body left so he can fix Seungcheol’s slack mouth and wipe drool from the corner of Seungcheol’s lips with his thumb.

He closes his eyes and counts, but Seungcheol’s snore makes him forget what comes after fifty-seven. By the time the sun rises, Seungkwan’s patience has run out, and he’s tired enough that he’ll tune out Seungcheol in his sleep, so he burrows further into his pillow and falls asleep.

It’s afternoon when Seungkwan wakes up again, the sun filtering into his room brighter and warmer, hot enough that he feels like he’s steaming underneath his clothes. Seungcheol is suffocating against him, still smelling of alcohol.

“Get off me,” Seungkwan grumbles, shoving Seungcheol until he lands with a slump on his back and halfway off the bed.

“What’s happening?” Seungcheol slurs, finally awake and blinking at the ceiling. He shifts a bit until he’s lying down safely on the bed, then turns his head to face Seungkwan. “I’m here?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Seungcheol looks at him, at his rumpled prom clothes, and toys with the lapel. “You look good.”

“Yeah, well, you look like a sad old guy.” Seungkwan reaches for Seungcheol’s face, feeling the stubble that’s accumulated on his face from days of studying, then gingerly feels the bags under Seungcheol’s eyes. He wants to dab at the dark circles with cold fingers and his mom’s concealer and to give him a good shave and a shower.

“Did I go drinking?” Seungcheol smacks his mouth and darts out his tongue to lick his lips, making a face. “Everything tastes gross.” But that doesn’t stop him from trying to steal a kiss from Seungkwan, who turns his head away in disgust. Seungcheol frowns at the action, asking Seungkwan, “did I do something last night?” with his eyebrows knitted together.

“No,” Seungkwan lies, because Seungcheol definitely doesn’t remember masturbating last night, “I’m just not kissing you like this.”

Seungcheol hums. “Fair enough.” He clambers off of the bed then walks to the bathroom, coming out a few minutes later with a freshly washed face and smelling vaguely of mint. “Better?” he asks.

Seungkwan nods then finally lets Seungcheol kiss him. Seungcheol’s lips are still cold from the water and his stubble grazesagainst Seungkwan’s chin; Seungkwan hates the burn on his skin, thinks he’ll come away with scratches on his face. He cups Seungcheol’s face and runs his thumb over the stubble, grimacing at how it sounds like sandpaper.

“What time did I get here?” Seungcheol asks.

“I don’t know,” Seungkwan lies again. “I was asleep.”

“Ah.” Seungcheol traces a finger down Seungkwan’s jaw and plays with the now crushed and sad flower on his lapel before splaying his palm flat on Seungkwan’s chest, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Seungkwan holds his breath, wondering for a bit if the heat from Seungcheol’s hand is enough to burn a hole through his shirt. “You look good,” Seungcheol says again. “Seriously.”

Seungkwan doesn’t say anything, just leans into the pressure of Seungcheol’s hand, and grins at him, saying, “you missed out.”

Seungcheol’s wearing a school shirt that looks faded and worn, the yellow lettering blending into the red background, and a pair of baggy jeans. On the floor is his discarded hoodie, also in the colours of his university. He looks even more sad and tired like this, like he can’t be bothered with anything anymore.

“Are you mad?” Seungcheol asks.

“Why would I be mad?”

“I missed your prom.”

“Your professor is a jerk,” Seungkwan huffs, making Seungcheol laugh.

Seungcheol moves nearer Seungkwan, cups the back of Seungkwan’s neck, and brings their foreheads together. He promises, “I’ll go with you next year.”

“I kinda want to skip it next year,” Seungkwan admits slowly, as if he can’t believe he’s saying it either.

“Really?”

“Yeah. We could just do something else.”

Seungcheol grins. “Like what?”

“Go eat Italian food? Bowling? I don’t know, I just”—Seungkwan hooks a leg around Seungcheol’s waist then kisses him on the nose—“want to spend time with you, I guess.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow at him and teases him, “you guess? Was prom really that boring?”

“Oh my god,” Seungkwan lets out, rolling his eyes, “it _was_. Like, I know my music taste isn’t great but they played that ‘So Close’ song from that Disney movie, and Mingyu hyung and I were dancing until it started playing and he just _laughed—_ The music was, like, EDM or something before it switched out.”

“Did you dance with him?” Seungcheol asks once he’s stopped laughing that obnoxious laugh of his.

Seungkwan scoffs. “He’s way too tall and smells and looks like a hypebeast,” he deadpans, making Seungcheol laugh again. “But, yeah, I did. On my tiptoes.”

“Come on, Seungkwanie, we should go to your next prom,” Seungcheol insists.

“Why are you so annoying?” Seungkwan whines as he reaches up to twist Seungcheol’s ear. “I just said I didn’t want to. Besides, you’ll have exams again or something, so we should just chill out.”

“I want to dance with you, though,” Seungcheol says. “On your tiptoes.”

“You’re only an inch taller than me,” Seungkwan grouses. “Shut up.”

“I’ll wear platform shoes.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes at that, about to say that wearing platforms will ruin his dancing, but it’s not like Seungcheol was a good dancer to begin with, so he bites his tongue and says, “fine” instead. He pushes Seungcheol’s face away after seeing how smug his smile’s become. “Ew.”

“Hey—”

“What’s ew is your face,” Seungkwan tells him. “You need a shave before I kiss you again.”

“Do it for me?” Seungcheol asks in a baby’s voice, tiny and whining, and Seungkwan is caught between giving up on Seungcheol and giving in, but Seungkwan pushes him off the bed until Seungcheol gets up and Seungkwan follows him to the bathroom anyway.

Seungkwan decidedly focuses on brushing his teeth and washing his face so he doesn’t see Seungcheol naked until Seungcheol reemerges from the shower, hair dripping water unto his collarbones and a towel wrapped around his waist. He gets Seungcheol to sit down on the toilet bowl with the cover on then straddles his hips, shrugging off his coat and leaving it on the floor so it won’t get a rip from stretching. “You’re so ugly,” he chides as he dabs shaving cream on the shadows along the length of Seungcheol’s chin.

Seungcheol pouts but tilts his head back to Seungkwan can put more shaving cream under his jaw anyway.

“You’re lucky I found this,” Seungkwan says as he waves a packet of men’s disposable razors in front of Seungcheol’s face.

“You don’t have to do it, you know,” Seungcheol says with a laugh. “Don’t hurt me.”

“Why would I?” Seungkwan tears the packet open with his teeth and fishes out one of the razors, setting the others aside on the sink. He cups Seungcheol’s chin then makes him face the left, dragging the teeth of the razor through the cream. To get as close as possible to the skin without nicking it, Seungkwan has to press his body closer to Seungcheol’s, until his mouth is all but against the shaving cream and Seungcheol has to lay a hand on the small of Seungkwan’s back to keep him steady.

“You feel like my wife,” Seungcheol says, colour rising on his cheeks, and Seungkwan is so very proud of that, enough to kiss him right above the shaving cream.

“That wasn’t the plan,” Seungkwan says smoothly, trying to keep from smiling. “I need a towel.”

“I’m wearing one,” Seungcheol offers, wiggling his eyebrows.

Seungkwan rolls his eyes and says, “keep it” as he reaches across the sink for a hand towel to wipe the cream off on then tells Seungcheol to turn his head the other way. When he’s done shaving, he wipes Seungcheol’s face with the towel then sets both towel and razor on the sink.

“Am I smooth now?” Seungcheol asks, hand reaching up to brush his shaved jaw.

“You were never smooth,” Seungkwan deadpans, but now he gets to lower his head to kiss Seungcheol without worrying about razor burn, nibbling on Seungcheol’s bottom lip until he groans against Seungkwan’s mouth.

Seungcheol’s jaw is smooth and warm against Seungkwan’s lips when he trails his mouth down the length of it before latching on to Seungcheol’s neck and drawing the skin into his mouth. Seungkwan sucks on it until Seungcheol lets out a strangled gasp in his ear, the arm Seungcheol has around Seungkwan tightening.

“Excited?” Seungcheol teases.

“You’re attracted to me” is all Seungkwan says, the warmth in his gut from last night coming back in full force along with a fierce blush on the apples of his cheeks because he feels something twitch underneath his thigh. He grins against Seungcheol’s neck, tongue reaching out to lap up the reddened, sensitive spot he’s made, and wraps his arms around it, pulling himself up to kiss Seungcheol, who lets his mouth part so Seungkwan can slip his tongue inside and kiss Seungcheol’s “of course” away.

The toilet cover against the fabric of Seungkwan’s trousers is chafing and gross, and he feels himself slip off the edge a few times. Seungcheol notices, cupping Seungkwan’s butt.

“I’ve been working out,” Seungcheol says with a wide smile.

“So?”

“I can carry you.”

“Your towel might fall off,” Seungkwan warns him.

“Let it,” Seungcheol retorts. He stands up without warning, both hands reaching for Seungkwan’s butt to keep him from falling off, and Seungkwan dissolves into peals of laughter, tightening his grip on Seungcheol as Seungcheol brings him to the wall, the tiles cold against his back.

“Jesus Christ,” Seungkwan breathes. “Put me down, Seungcheol Choi.”

Seungcheol grins. “No.” They kiss again, Seungcheol thick and warm between Seungkwan’s legs while Seungkwan has his ankles hooked together on Seungcheol’s back.

The towel does fall off Seungcheol’s hips at some point, and Seungkwan climbs off of Seungcheol with his eyes closed, swatting his hand as he makes Seungcheol put it back on. “Are you decent?” Seungkwan asks.

“Sort of.”

“…Seungcheol.” Seungkwan opens his eyes anyway to see a covered Seungcheol walk to the sink, where a mirror lays above, to inspect his neck.

Two fingers press on Seungcheol’s skin, pulling it slightly to the other direction, making it taut where the light hits it and showing how dark red and round the spot on his neck is. “Impressive,” Seungcheol notes before his lips split into a grin that goes right up to his ears, which are both flushed a bright red. Seungkwan walks up to Seungcheol and wraps his arms around Seungcheol’s torso to kiss the tip of Seungcheol’s ears. “I thought you said you were one inch shorter,” Seungcheol says.

“I am,” Seungkwan murmurs against Seungcheol’s ear. “Or, like, two inches.”

“Not anymore.” True enough, Seungkwan is right at the same height as Seungcheol, and it only registers then that Seungkwan didn’t even have to reach up on his toes to kiss Seungcheol’s temple, so he breaks out into a laugh.

“I’m growing,” Seungkwan teases Seungcheol, voice in singsong as he wraps his arms around Seungcheol’s torso, and he loves the warmth and how Seungcheol fills up the space, “and you’re getting old.”

 

***

 

Seungkwan wakes up to Seungcheol's mouth on his forehead, warm air coming out in even breaths, and to the barely risen sun outside, to his mom playing something low and old on the radio downstairs. He'll never get enough of Seungcheol's eyelashes, he thinks as he ghosts the pad of his thumb over Seungcheol's eyelid and watches the thick, long lashes flutter. There's that sharp, strong stretch of jaw that Seungkwan loves, too, so he runs the backs of his fingers down the edge, cups Seungcheol's face in his hand.

Seungcheol makes a quiet groan, face screwed like he's dreamt of something bad, and pulls Seungkwan closer to him, more soft whimpers coming out from him until Seungkwan starts smoothing out his face, thumb brushing the tops of his cheekbones before tracing a line down the slope of his nose and brushing his bottom lip. His eyebrows stop furrowing together, relaxed, and Seungcheolsighs, mouth parting slightly beneath Seungkwan's thumb. The arm Seungcheol has around Seungkwan's waist is heavy and warm, and so is the tangled mess their legs have become during the night.

“You're awake,” Seungkwan grouses when Seungcheol lifts his eyes open. He feels Seungcheol rubbing his thumb on his back, and Seungcheol smiles, his voice rough and low and thick when he says, “good morning,” before he takes Seungkwan's thumb into his mouth.

Seungkwan offers, “You look like you had a bad dream.”

“It wasn't a bad dream,” Seungcheol says, letting go of Seungkwan's thumb.

“What was it?”

“It was a sex dream.”

“Oh,” Seungkwan says, embarrassed, pushing Seungcheol away when Seungcheol laughs. His mind is going blank until he realises Seungcheol's erection is pressed against his thigh, making him blurt out, “oh” again. “Do you want to take care of it?” he asks, his face heating up as he remembers Seungcheol moaning against his nape, whimpering his name, breath coming out in short gasps.

Seungcheol runs his fingers through Seungkwan's hair, bringing his fringe up and away from his forehead, then rests his hand on the back of Seungkwan's head and pulls him forward so their foreheads are touching, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on Seungkwan's scalp. “Do you want to take care of it?” he asks Seungkwan back and Seungkwan—

He doesn't know. Part of him is curious, eager, a little wanting. He likes hearing Seungcheol moan, his gut heating up inside him when he does, but he also feels his throat close and his insides flutter. Eventually, Seungkwan nods. “Yeah,” he says in a tiny exhale, and he is _so_ done with Seungcheol's fond smile and how his eyes get so bright even when it's eight in the morning and everything else is quiet and sleepy, but it's so worth it when Seungcheol pulls him in for a kiss and laces their fingers together. He pulls away to guide Seungkwan's hand down his chest to the waistband of his pyjamas, down his boxers, and Seungkwan shyly brings Seungcheol's cock out, mouth falling open and face incredibly warm.

A giggle escapes Seungkwan's mouth when he gives Seungcheol's cock a slight tug, and Seungcheol lets out a shy laugh, too, so Seungkwan relaxes, takes a deep breath, and starts stroking—small ones from the middle to the head. Seungcheol watches, tongue peeking out between his lips, and he covers Seungkwan's hand with his own, nodding when Seungkwan goes all the way to the base.

“Like that,” Seungcheol says.

“I don't know what I'm doing,” Seungkwan tells him, and he winces at how shaky he sounds.

“You're doing fine,” Seungcheol reassures him. “Just do it the way you do.”

Seungkwan nods, widening the ring his fingers make at the base of Seungcheol's cock and tightening his grip as he goes up to the head. He runs his thumb over the slit slightly, feels himself get hard when Seungcheol's eyes slip shut and he bites his lip, his soft moan coming out muffled.

“God,” Seungcheol breathes, his voice dropping, and Seungkwan wants to die; he's hard, too, and it's pressing against his briefs, so he's not sure how much longer he can stand Seungcheol like this, with his eyelashes brushing his cheekbones and the sounds he’s making the only thing Seungkwan registers. When Seungcheol opens his eyes, he asks Seungkwan, “do you want me to?” after his gaze flicks down then back up to Seungkwan's face, eyebrows knit together.

“Uhm—” Seungkwan pauses, his brain trying to cave in on itself, and he lets out a panicked gasp when Seungcheol cups him through his pyjamas, letting go of Seungcheol's cock in the process.

“Are you okay?” Seungcheol sounds scared and a little sad, like he regrets everything. “Do you want to stop? We can—”

“No,” Seungkwan interrupts, “it's—” Why is sex so _awkward_ and why didn't Soonyoung hyung ever warn him about this? Seungcheol's hand is still cupping him, the touch making him lean into it a little, and everything is just so warm—his hands are sweating and he has to wipe them on his shirt and the room's gotten rid of its last traces of morning cold and Seungcheol nudges at Seungkwan’s feet with his own, making sure Seungkwan’s warm down to his extremities. Seungkwan lets out a shuddering breath and swallows the lump that's caught in his throat, the little gulping sound he makes very audible in the quiet room. “I'm really sorry,” he says, “I want this, I do.” He bites his lip and faces Seungcheol head on, the next thing he says making him want to crawl under the bed and stay there: “Please touch me, Seungcheol?”

“Gosh,” Seungcheol says, laughing as he kisses Seungkwan again and again and again until Seungkwan breaks out into a laugh, his nose wrinkling, “you are so cute. What did I do to deserve you?”

The bed should just develop jaws and swallow Seungkwan whole. He scoffs, but it turns into a whimper when Seungcheol reaches into his pyjamas and brings out his cock with his warm hand, giving it a hesitant stroke.

“Is this okay?”

How can it not be if Seungcheol Choi is being so _sweet_ and so _considerate_ —Seungkwan just chokes out an “it's very okay”, mouth parting when Seungcheol starts stroking him in earnest. He returns his hand to Seungcheol's cock and strokes him off, too, and any suggestion of conversation melts away, leaving them with nothing but their own quiet puffs of breath and tiny moans for a few moments.

The silence is broken by Seungkwan, who lets out a loud “Oh my _god—_ ” and has to shush himself by burying his face into the crook of Seungcheol's neck and breathing in Seungcheol's scent of soap and fabric conditioner and a faint hint of the cologne Seungkwan's mom gave him for his birthday. Seungcheol groans when Seungkwan spreads the bead of precome around the head of his cock, the sound a low, deep rumble that surrounds Seungkwan's ears and makes his knees go weak.

Seungkwan strokes Seungcheol a little faster, and Seungcheol matches the pace, so Seungkwan breaks down into whimpers, and when Seungcheol brushes his thumb over the slit of Seungkwan's cock, he feels like he's ready to drop dead. His toes are curling, and he whines into Seungcheol’s neck, but he also registers Seungcheol panting above him, his free hand wrenching out of its cramped position to stroke Seungkwan’s hair and tangle its fingers into it, tugging on the locks slightly.

“Seungkwanie,” Seungcheol calls for him, “I want to hear you.” He pulls up Seungkwan until they’re facing each other again, and Seungkwan feels himself turn red once more. “Don’t be shy.”

“I’m not shy,” snaps Seungkwan in a whisper. “What if my mom hears us?”

“I think she went out,” Seungcheol replies. “The radio’s off.”

“Did you hear a door close?”

“Maybe?”

Seungkwan is this close to smacking him. “If you’re just saying stuff—” Seungcheol’s hand left his cock to tease his balls before returning to stroke the head with his thumb, and all Seungkwan could do is choke on his words, hips chasing Seungcheol’s touch, and Seungcheol presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Like that, yeah,” Seungcheol encourages him when Seungkwan lets out the low moan he’s been holding, his eyes closing, “you sound so _good_.”

Face entirely red, Seungkwan returns his attention to stroking Seungcheol’s cock, running his thumbnail up the length of it before lightly tracing the slit, and Seungcheol _keens_ , high-pitched and hitched, thrusting into Seungkwan’s hand. More precome follows, and Seungkwan wonders briefly what it would taste like, if Seungcheol would feel heavy in his mouth, but his jaw aches just thinking about it and he swallows, pants into the pillow as Seungcheol continues to stroke him, trying to not stop everything else to focus on the orgasm building hot and tight in his gut, to not thrust into Seungcheol’s hand until he comes.

“Are you close?” For a moment, Seungkwan thinks Seungcheol’s voice became detached from his body, his mouth moving soundlessly, but he doesn’t process it so much, just nods, lets go of Seungcheol’s cock and lets Seungcheol take over. Seungcheol quickens his pace, hand now slick with precome while the other is tugging at Seungkwan’s hair, making Seungkwan turn his head up to meet Seungcheol’s eyes.

A whine comes out of Seungkwan, making Seungcheol groan.

“God, I love it when you sound like that,” Seungcheol says, and Seungkwan doesn’t know what’s so attractive about sounding like a dying puppy, but the last swipe of Seungcheol’s thumb on the head of his cock gets him coming, so he can’t do anything but fall slack with a quiet cry as Seungcheol strokes him slowly through his shaking. Seungcheol lets go to touch himself, but Seungkwan stops him.

“I can”—Seungkwan licks his lips, gulps down—“do that,” he says, face burning, and returns his hand to Seungcheol’s cock, surprised at how he’s missed the weight of it in his hand. Seungcheol covers Seungkwan’s hand with his, and they get Seungcheol to come together.

Seungcheol Choi looks terrible when he comes—mouth slack and eyebrows knitted together, hair sticking to the sides of his head from sweat. The noise he makes is low and rumbly before it cracks up, and Seungkwan giggles, making Seungcheol pull him in for a kiss to stop him.

“What’s so funny?” he asks later when Seungkwan’s calmed down.

“You are,” Seungkwan answers. He rolls away from the semen that’s on the bed, making a face, then tucks his softened cock back into his pyjamas. Seungcheol does the same, too.

“How was it?”

“Weird,” Seungkwan admits.

“Why?”

“It was, like, really clumsy, but”—Seungkwan licks his lips—“I think I like it.”

Seungcheol brightens up at that, breaking into a wide smile. “I like it, too,” he says. He touches the come-covered bed sheet by mistake and makes a face. “We should clean that up.” Giggling, they lift up the sheet from the bed and bundle it up into a large ball that they carry to the laundry room together, tiptoeing around the kitchen to make sure Mrs Boo isn’t home. They start up the wash cycle, and Seungcheol helps Seungkwan sit on top of the machine, wrapping Seungkwan’s legs around his waist.

Seungkwan lowers his head to kiss Seungcheol, fingers lacing themselves around his neck, and Seungcheol grins into the kiss, biting his lip after. “I just saw you come in your pyjamas.”

“You, too,” Seungcheol says with a laugh. “Do you think we’ll ever get to do it?”

“Do what?”

“ _It_.”

“What are you, twelve?” Seungkwan demands with a laugh, balling up the back of Seungcheol’s shirt in his fists. “We will, but not now. Besides… this is good.” His face burns a bright red when he adds, “we can keep doing this.”

“You said you wouldn’t do stuff with me if you felt that I was better than you.”

“Well…” Seungkwan pouts. “Yeah…”

“Did it change?”

Seungkwan shuts him up with his mouth then pulls away. “I’m getting there, okay? Trust me.”

Seungcheol looks way too excited for it to be innocent, his smile from ear to ear. He places both hands on Seungkwan’s thighs and drags them upwards slowly. “You’re amazing,” he says, to which Seungkwan sticks his tongue out.

“You’re a pervert,” Seungkwan complains. Seungcheol laughs and rubs their noses together before bringing his head up to kiss the tip of Seungkwan’s.

“You liked it, too,” Seungcheol retorts.

“You know what I didn’t like?” Seungkwan begins. “You jacking off next to me.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows knit together and he frowns, unable to look at Seungkwan from how embarrassed he is. He twists his mouth as he finds something to say, then eventually asks, “did that happen before?”

Seungkwan nods, brushing the hair way from Seungcheol’s face. “Remember when you got drunk then went to my house after prom?”

Seungcheol ducks his head down, now too embarrassed. He rubs his face with his hand and shakes his head, the tips of his ears burning red. “I’m really sorry,” he says in a shaky voice. “I shouldn’t have.”

“Go to the bathroom next time” is what Seungkwan tells him, gentle and forgiving. (If he were honest, he was more flattered than offended, but that didn’t make it any better or any more right.) Seungcheol nods at that. Seungkwan’s cheeks heat up when he adds, “or you can ask me,” and they fall into silence, the only audible thing being the hum of the washing machine.

Seungcheol breaks the silence with: “So… round two?”

The washing machine has a little less than two hours left before Seungkwan has to start up the dry cycle, and both of them know that, breaking into wicked grins as Seungkwan pretends to think about it.

“Carry me?” Seungkwan teases, but that doesn’t make him any less surprised for when Seungcheol does lift him up, his hands firmly cupping Seungkwan’s butt. He tightens his legs around Seungcheol’s waist and laughs into the crook of Seungcheol’s neck as Seungcheol brings them both back to Seungkwan’s bedroom.

 

***

 

“What the hell,” Seungkwan complains when he comes face-to-face with Myungho on the way to the cafeteria for lunch. Vernon stops walking, too, and grins up at him.

“‘Sup, bruh?” Vernon says. Myungho grins back, and they bump their fists together.

“I thought it was Senior Skip Day,” Seungkwan says.

“It is,” Myungho tells them, “so Seokmin and I are treating you guys.”

Vernon’s eyebrows knit together. “Cafeteria food?”

“No,” Myungho replies with a roll of his eyes. “We’re getting Mexican. Mingyu got a car as an early graduation gift.” Vernon lets out a low whistle and asks what it takes to get a car from his parents like that. “Forget it, kid,” Myungho tells him. “Mingyu’s valedictorian and going Ivy, so.”

“Mingyu-hyung?” Seungkwan butts in. “No way.” Wonwoo always looked like the smarter one, while Mingyu’s like an overgrown child someone admitted to high school because of his height.

“He did, so are you eating with us or not? Get him to tutor you or something, too,” Myungho says.

“I can’t say no to free food,” Seungkwan tells him brightly, almost bouncing as he follows Myungho and Vernon to the school parking lot, where he finds Mingyu leaning on the hood of his car, sunglasses perched on his face and a wide, white-toothed grin. “Hyung,” Seungkwan tells Mingyu, “I didn’t know you’re smart.”

Mingyu laughs and says he just studies hard, which makes Seungkwan scoff.

“Does that mean the rest of us don’t study hard?” Seungkwan demands. Myungho claps him on the back and says, “tell him, Boo.” 

Mingyu grumbles and tells them both to get in the car or he’s leaving them behind to get caught by the principal, so Myungho clambers into the car after Seungkwan, and they hurry out of the school grounds to the restaurant, which was full, but they managed to get a booth near the window anyway, across the table from a guy polishing off his third michelada for the day as he picks up nacho chip after another, strings of cheese stretching all the way into his mouth.

“The chilaquiles here are,” Seokmin says as he makes a circle with his thumb and forefinger and slides into the booth. Seungkwan nods and follows him, then Myungho. Vernon and Mingyu sit opposite them, already flipping through the menu.

“Say that again,” Myungho tells Seokmin.

Seokmin knits his eyebrows together. “Say what again? Chilaquiles?” When Myungho laughs, he reaches behind Seungkwan to flick him on the ear. “Excuse you; I took Spanish for two years.”

“The cemita sounds so good, though,” Vernon says, eyes still scanning through the menu. He brings his eyes up to look at Seungkwan. “Kwannie, what’re you getting?”

Seungkwan shrugs, then tells Mingyu, “Order for me, hyung?” Mingyu snorts but orders for Seungkwan anyway when the waitress comes to take their order.

“Oh, yeah, speaking of big news”—Vernon digs into his pockets for his wallet, then brings it out—“I got some.”

Seokmin eyes the wallet then asks, “You got money?”

“I wish,” Vernon bites back. “I meant _I got some_.” He brings out an open condom wrapper from his wallet and lays it on the centre of the table then leans back with a smug smile on his face.

Mingyu nudges him with his elbow. “Good for you, kid. Was there an occasion?”

“Fourth anniversary, and her parents weren’t home, so…” Vernon and Mingyu bump fists, then Mingyu calls the waitress to get nachos in celebration.

Myungho’s eyebrows raise at that. “ _That_ long?”

“Longer than all your previous girlfriends combined, right?” Seokmin teases Myungho.

Seungkwan laughs then meets Vernon’s eyes. “Congratulations,” he says. “How was it?”

“Awkward,” Vernon admits with a shy laugh, face now flushing and the tips of his ears going red. “Like, in the movies, they always make it look like some kinda fun, hot thing, but your first time’s kinda…” He shakes his head. “There are a lot of things to get used to, man—”

“I’m pretty sure you’re gonna start _getting used to it_ now,” Mingyu jokes, clapping Vernon on the back.

“I’m just saying that it’s good, but it could be better,” Vernon finishes. “But, you know, Wonwoo-hyung told me to just go for it. I mean, she and I are both eighteen now.”

Seokmin stares at Vernon. “ _Wonwoo_ -hyung?” he repeats.

“He’s the cool kid now in college,” Mingyu tells the table with a slight frown.

“Please, even I find Wonwoo-hyung hot,” Seungkwan offers. “Like, if I saw him before I met Seungcheol? Bruh. He’s a lit major, right?”

“Yeah, and I won’t be surprised if he ends up dating a professor or something,” Myungho says. “Like, when he’s already a junior.”

“What kind of professor wants to date a freshman, anyway?” Seokmin pipes up. “It’s like dating a high school student, ‘cause they’re not that much smarter.” Mingyu nods in agreement, then takes a sip of his virgin margarita.

The food comes, soon filling up the table with plates of tacos surrounding the large platter of nachos on the centre of the table, all threatening to spill over. Mingyu takes up a plate right away, stuffing food into his mouth to signal the end of the conversation on his part.

“Hey, Seungkwan,” Vernon says, recalling Seungkwan from his thoughts of which plate to get first, “how about you and hyung?”

“It’s our… third anniversary this year,” Seungkwan says with a shrug. “Why?”

“Not that.” Vernon squeezes some lime on his taco, and before takes a bite, asks, “have you and Seungcheol-hyung done it yet?”

Mingyu chokes on his food, and Seungkwan wants to crawl underneath Mingyu’s car so Mingyu can run him over repeatedly, though it’s good that both Seokmin and Myungho don’t seem to mind, with Seokmin instructing Myungho on how to eat his taco properly and that ‘lengua’ means it’s tongue meat, which doesn’t seem to deter Myungho, who eats it anyway with relish.

“Seriously, Vernon—” Mingyu starts, before Seungkwan cuts him off.

“We haven’t.” Second base doesn’t make a home run, no matter how world-shattering it is to Seungkwan. “I mean, there’s just so many things to consider.”

“Like what?”

“Uh, he’s older than me? I only turned eighteen this year, so.” Vernon nods at that. “Besides, we’re taking it slow. Like, two miles an hour slow.”

“That’s good,” Mingyu says, clearing his throat. He’s asked for a glass of water, drinking from it as soon as it gets to their table. He then returns to his food and adds, with his mouth full, “you gotta set all those boundaries and stuff, man. It’s important.”

“So hyung isn’t pressuring you or anything?” Vernon asks. Seungkwan shakes his head. “I’m not surprised.”

“Then why did you ask?” Seungkwan demands, trying to keep his voice level, but it does come out higher than he normally sounds, which Vernon frowns at.

“I was just thinking that maybe he’d be kinda different if it was about sex?” Vernon babbles. “But don’t mind me.”

“I won’t,” Seungkwan grumbles, crossing his arms. Myungho taps him on the arm and tells him to get some nachos before the cheese congeals and gets all nasty, so Seungkwan gets a chip and dips it in the salsa before putting it in his mouth. 

“Hey,” Seokmin tells Seungkwan in a low voice, “if hyung does pressure you and you don’t want it, don’t do it.”

“Yeah,” Myungho pipes up, “he’s a nice guy, so it’ll be okay.”

Seungkwan flicks his eyes between them both and can only nod, reaching across Seokmin for the taco filled with chorizo and potatoes he’s been eyeing since it arrived at their table. The chorizo’s juices drip down his fingers, so Seungkwan tries to take smaller bites, with the plate hovering right below it to catch the drippings. Everyone else’s become preoccupied with food, too.

Eventually, Seungkwan pipes up, “where are you going, Mingyu-hyung?”

“Me? UPenn.”

“ _UPenn_ ,” Myungho mocks, but Seungkwan knows he’s off to a decent school himself, so he just sticks his tongue out at him. “You’re having a party, Mingyu Kim, no negotiations.”

“My parents haven’t forgotten you,” Mingyu tells him with a grin. He explains to Vernon and Seungkwan, “he barged in on my parents sleeping and barfed in front of them.”

Seokmin cackles, though he must have heard the story more than a few times. Myungho doesn’t look bothered, though, but he pouts at the two youngest for laughing. “I cleaned up,” he says in defence of himself.

“Yeah, after asking them why they were in your bathroom,” Seokmin reminds him and bursts into laughter again.

“I’m not the one who tried hitting on Jeonghan-hyung at that one party,” Myungho bites back with an evil grin, and Seokmin shuts up, sober and pouting as he drags a chip through the guacamole.

They all polish off the rest of the nachos and lean back in their seats. Mingyu asks Vernon and Seungkwan if they want to go back to school.

“No way,” Seungkwan says with a wrinkle of his nose. “I kinda wanna see Seungcheol.”

Mingyu hums, knitting his eyebrows together. “Are you sure? We can go to his college and surprise him.” Once the idea sinks in, and they realise it’s plausible, all of them break into a grin.

 

***

 

The university is not as big as Seungkwan thought, but he realises that he knows literally nothing about what Seungcheol’s schedule is like or where the dorms are or if he’s out with friends and they arrive on campus during rush time, when students are transferring from one class to another, and Seungkwan feels like he’s drowning. He looks at Mingyu for help, nerves buzzing inside of him, and Mingyu just points at the phone in his hand and shrugs. Seungkwan types up a text to Seungcheol, then waits for him to reply.

“Have you found him yet?” Seokmin asks.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan says, reading the text from his phone, “he told me to meet him outside some building.”

“Give it to me,” Mingyu says. He plucks the phone from Seungkwan’s hand then walks over to the nearest girl he sees to ask about the building, then comes back a few minutes later with a grin as he hands Seungkwan’s phone back to him. “It’s just down there.” He points at the stretch to their left.

“Why are you smiling?” Myungho asks.

“She thought I was an exchange student, so she tried talking to me in Chinese, then she realised I spoke English and got all flirty.” Mingyu waves a piece of paper containing a string of numbers then pockets it in his jacket, biting his bottom lip as he runs a hand through his hair, which makes Seungkwan suspect he’s doing it on purpose because the girl and her friends are still around.

Myungho snorts then pats Seungkwan on the shoulder. “You’ll be okay, kid?”

“Yeah. I’ll make him find me if I get lost,” Seungkwan answers. “See ya.” The rest wave back at him, then Seungkwan turns on his heel and walks in the direction of the building where Seungcheol’s waiting for him.

He finds Seungcheol easily, grinning back when he sees Seungcheol’s face split into a wide smile, and wraps his arms around him while Seungcheol kisses him on the cheek, hand messing up his hair.

“This is so strange,” Seungcheol admits, breaking into a giggle, “but a good strange.” He slings his arm around Seungkwan’s shoulder just as a girl pauses in front of them, eyes flicking from Seungkwan to Seungcheol. “Boyfriend,” Seungcheol explains sheepishly.

“Oh,” the girl says, smiling, “do you go to a different school?”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan says, and it’s technically not a lie. He takes the hand she gives him and shakes it.

“I’m Cameron.”

“Seungkwan.”

“It’s so cute how you guys practically have the same name, Cheollie,” Cameron tells Seungcheol with a laugh then turns to face Seungkwan. “You’re really cute, too, you know.”

“Thanks,” Seungkwan tells her, now smug and preening.

Cameron waves her fingers at them then rushes off, binder held tight against her chest and blond ponytail swinging and catching light. Seungkwan turns to face Seungcheol with a raised brow, nudging him on the shoulder.

“Cheollie? What the hell is Cheollie?” Seungkwan demands with a laugh.

“She hates my name!” Seungcheol says in defence as he steers them away from the crowded building. “I’m serious, I tried getting her to pronounce it right and she couldn’t, so she started calling me ‘Cheollie’.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “You should’ve told her your name was…”

“Was what?” Seungcheol prompts.

“I don’t know,” Seungkwan bites back. “Sheldon or Steve or Sean?” They’ve gone back on the main stretch of walkway in campus, and Seungcheol lets go of Seungkwan’s shoulders, instead wrapping both arms around Seungkwan’s torso, clipping his arms together. He then blows a raspberry on Seungkwan’s neck, which makes Seungkwan laugh loud enough to have someone look in their direction.

“Hello,” Seungcheol says, “it’s me, Sheldon Chwe.”

“It suits you,” Seungkwan tells him. “Get off me; people are looking.”

“Wanna go to my room?” Seungcheol murmurs in Seungkwan’s ear. When Seungkwan nods, he lets go of him and laces their fingers together, so he’s practically dragging Seungkwan all the way to one of the dorm buildings.

The second bed, littered with stuff Seungkwan recognises isn’t Seungcheol’s, is the first thing he sees. The door closes behind them, and Seungcheol has his arms wrapped around Seungkwan’s waist again, chin resting on Seungkwan’s shoulder as Seungkwan looks around the room. “Where’s your roommate?” he asks.

“I texted him,” Seungcheol replies, and when Seungkwan tilts his head back to look at his boyfriend, Seungcheol has a wicked grin on.

“You’re too eager,” Seungkwan admonishes, but he turns around to kiss Seungcheol anyway, chasing his mouth until Seungcheol is pressed against the wall next to the door with Seungkwan’s knee between his thighs. Seungcheol’s hand reaches down for the doorknob then turns the lock, the sound of it clicking intermingling with the wet slides of their mouths. Seungkwan can feel how hard Seungcheol is, can feel Seungcheol’s hands bringing his pants down and his cock out. “Too eager,” he breathes, biting his lip when Seungcheol starts to stroke him.

“Hi,” Seungcheol says with a laugh, and Seungkwan wants to hit him.

“Hey, did you know Vernon’s not a virgin anymore?” Seungkwan’s getting hard in Seungcheol’s hand, and it’s getting harder to think in that position, with Seungcheol rubbing his thumb over his slit.

Seungcheol laughs in his ear, low and grumbly, and whispers, “it’s about time,” his breath hot against Seungkwan’s skin. “Did he give you details?”

“Ew”—Seungkwan wrinkles his nose—“no.” He unzips Seungcheol’s pants with shaky hands and brings out his cock, red and fat in his palm, then starts to stroke, eliciting a gasp out of him. “He was just saying—wait, I forgot—something about their—ah—anniversary?”

“How long have they been together?”

“Four years.”

“It’s a long time,” Seungcheol muses. He kisses Seungkwan again then makes a messy trail with his lips down to Seungkwan’s neck, mouthing at the sweat-slicked skin. “What about us?”

“We’re—oh, Jesus—taking it slow,” Seungkwan gasps. “Two miles per hour slow.”

At that, Seungcheol bursts out laughing, his lips shiny and chest heaving and smile unbelievably wide. “So what do you call this?”

“Full speed.” Seungkwan looks down at Seungcheol’s cock in his hand, and his mouth goes dry. He licks his lips and flicks his eyes up again to meet Seungcheol’s. “I want to…”

Seungcheol raises and eyebrow at him, and Seungkwan feels his face warm, heartbeat racing.

“I want to—” Seungkwan dissolves into giggles and the tension between them melts away. “I can’t—”

“You can,” Seungcheol insists.

“Ugh.” Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “Can I just show you?” Seungcheol nods, so Seungkwan pins him even closer against the wall and traps Seungcheol’s bottom lip between his lips, sucking on it until Seungcheol groans against his mouth. He’s still stroking Seungcheol off, running a thumbnail over the slit of Seungcheol’s cock that makes him keen.

“Was that it?” Seungcheol asks when they pull away, his eyes fluttering shut.

Seungkwan swats him on the arm. “Of course not,” he says as he pulls Seungcheol by the collar of his shirt to kiss him again before kissing the side of his mouth and along his jaw. He licks at a patch of skin on Seungcheol’s neck then sucks on it, grazing it with his teeth when he hears Seungcheol let out a tiny moan, right in Seungkwan’s ear.

“Was that it?” Seungcheol asks again, and Seungkwan laughs.

“There’s more,” Seungkwan tells him, his nervousness coming out in full force so he places shaky kisses on the hollow of Seungcheol’s throat, trailing a line down his chest. He adds, “a lot more” when he sinks to his knees and reaches the hem of Seungcheol’s shirt, fingers curling on it. “Can I?”

“Yeah. And I think I know what’s happening.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

The tips of Seungkwan’s ears are too hot to the touch. “Good” is all he can say before lifting up Seungcheol’s shirt to expose the trail of hair starting from Seungcheol’s navel and ending at the base of his cock. “You’re so hairy.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “Sorry.”

“I love it.” Seungkwan grins up at him before putting his mouth on Seungcheol’s stomach, placing close-mouthed kisses on the trail of hair so he doesn’t get a strand of hair stuck between his teeth (or worse, swallow one). He drags Seungcheol’s pants further down, so they pool around Seungcheol’s ankles, then comes face-to-face with Seungcheol’s cock. With nowhere to hide and Seungkwan’s face feeling like it’ll melt off from how hot it’s becoming, he ends up chuckling. “Uhm,” he starts, fervently wishing his palms would stop sweating so much, “wow.”

“Are you okay?” Seungcheol asks quietly. He runs a hand through Seungkwan’s hair and caresses his cheek. “You don’t have to do it if you’re nervous.”

“I want to,” Seungkwan stresses. With slight hesitation, he darts out his tongue to taste the skin at the base of Seungcheol’s cock.

“Oh my god,” Seungcheol says above him, and Seungkwan smiles, laying his tongue flat on the underside and licking his way up to the head. He grips Seungcheol’s hips to keep him steady, digging his nails into the skin when he takes Seungcheol in his mouth, sucking on the head that’s saltier than he realised and the _smell_ —

“ _Seungkwan_ ,” Seungcheol gasps. He brushes the hair away from Seungkwan’s eyes then cups his cheek. “You look so good.”

Seungkwan feels like his jaw will fall off, but he takes Seungcheol in as deep as he can, until Seungcheol’s cock brushes against the back of his throat and he wants to gag. He strokes what he can’t take into his mouth, the wet sounds getting to him until he reaches a hand down to stroke himself. Above him, Seungcheol is pressed firmly against the wall, whimpers coming out muffled because of his bottom lip that’s caught between his teeth.

One of Seungcheol’s hands tangles itself in Seungkwan’s hair, tugging on the locks with a gentle pressure then pressing down on Seungkwan’s head so Seungkwan takes more of him in his mouth, until Seungkwan’s eyes start to water and he gags a little, making him pull away with a cough.

“I don’t want to die like this,” Seungkwan complains.

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol says, brushing the hair away from Seungkwan’s face again and pulling him up to kiss him. “You’re doing great.”

“Except when you tried to _choke_ me to death—”

“Hey, hey, that’s my fault.”

“Is it now?”

“I’m sorry, Seungkwanie. I’m all yours, okay?” Seungcheol says, kissing him again.

“Take off your shirt,” Seungkwan tells him, getting up on his feet and fingers teasing at the hem of Seungcheol’s shirt. He steps back so Seungcheol can pull it over his head with ease then returns to kissing Seungcheol, licking a stripe up the working column of Seungcheol’s throat, and Seungcheol lets out a groan at that, fisting Seungkwan’s hair with both hands. “You’re boyfriend of the year,” Seungkwan breathes.

“Am I hotter than Liam Payne now?”

“Please, Seungcheol,” Seungkwan retorts against Seungcheol’s chest, trailing a line with his mouth from the hollow of Seungcheol’s throat to his stomach, “I _like_ Liam Payne.”

“But?”

“ _But_ I love you.” Seungkwan rolls his eyes and pinches Seungcheol’s stomach. “I bet you get a kick out of me saying gross things.”

Seungcheol laughs and ruffles Seungkwan’s hair. “You know it turns me on,” he replies, which makes Seungkwan wrinkle his nose.

“I used to think you were cool,” Seungkwan sniffs. He’s peppering kisses on Seungcheol’s torso, and even Seungcheol shuts up, his groan coming out whiny and broken. Right before Seungkwan takes Seungcheol’s cock in his mouth, he says, “tell me when you’re close, okay?”

“Sure,” Seungcheol says, then breaks into a whimper when Seungkwan sucks on the head of his cock, darting his tongue out to lick at the slit. “Okay, I might be close.”

“Seungcheol _Choi—_ ”

“I’m _kidding_.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes then slips them shut, making kisses down the length of Seungcheol’s cock before taking him again in his mouth. Seungcheol’s heavy in Seungkwan’s mouth and on his tongue, and it takes a lot for Seungkwan to think of anything than just its overwhelming presence inside him. He sucks in his cheeks, and Seungcheol groans, hips snapping up as he chases his orgasm, so Seungkwan tightens his grip on Seungcheol’s hips, keeping him steady.

“For real,” Seungcheol gasps, “I think I’m close.”

Seungcheol’s cock slips out of Seungkwan’s mouth with a wet slide, and Seungkwan strokes him while his mouth concentrates on the head, tongue swirling around the slit, and it’s not long after that when Seungcheol comes, most of it landing on the floor, but some lands on Seungkwan’s lips, so Seungkwan darts out his tongue to lick it away, making face at its bitterness while Seungcheol sinks to the floor with a loud laugh, his stomach tightening.

“That was amazing,” Seungcheol breathes. “Thank you, Seungkwanie.”

“Wipe it,” Seungkwan says as he sits on the floor as well, handing Seungcheol his shirt. Seungcheol takes it and wipes without a word, then faces Seungkwan with a wide grin, throwing the dirtied shirt to the floor. At Seungcheol’s face, Seungkwan has to ask: “What?”

“My turn.”

Seungkwan scrambles up and runs to the bed, laughing when Seungcheol first has to kick off his pants then tackles Seungkwan on the bed, hooking his thumbs into the waist of Seungkwan’s pants and pulling them all the way down to the ankles. His face is burning, and he thinks Seungcheol can feel its warmth on his palms when he cups both of Seungkwan’s cheeks with his hands.

Seungcheol is smiling silly at him and rubbing his thumbs over Seungkwan’s cheekbones, and Seungkwan blushes harder, sure that his cock is twitching against the thigh Seungcheol has between his legs. “You’re amazing,” he tells Seungkwan, “seriously.”

“Yeah?”

Seungcheol kisses him. “Yeah, and I wanna prove it to you.”

“Try not to choke,” Seungkwan jokes, then leans his head back into the bed, fisting the bedsheets when Seungcheol gets his mouth on Seungkwan, his knees going weak. (Now he understands why Seungcheol wants to thrust into his mouth, to chase the heat, and it takes all he has to not do just that so he wouldn’t hurt Seungcheol.) “ _God_.”

“Good?” Seungcheol pulls away to ask, annoyingly proud smile on his face as he strokes Seungkwan.

“You’re terrible,” Seungkwan deadpans, laughing when Seungcheol pouts. “You’ll get better, right? Unless you don’t like doing it.”

Seungcheol shakes his head and says, “I see why you like it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol says, “it’s fun.”

“Then keep doing it.”

“So bossy,” Seungcheol teases, but he ducks his head back down and takes Seungkwan by surprise, getting a gasp out of him. He swirls his tongue around the head of Seungkwan’s cock, making flicks that are soft and gentle, and concentrates there when Seungkwan dissolves into whimpers. Seungcheol’s hand reaches for Seungkwan’s to lace their fingers together. (Seungkwan grips him a little too tightly, he thinks in retrospect.)

Seungkwan buries his free hand in Seungcheol’s hair and arches up into him, groan escaping his lips. Warmth is pooling in his gut and threatening to flood, so he tugs Seungcheol by the hair and pulls him up, his cock slipping past Seungcheol’s lips. Seungcheol grins at Seungkwan and pulls himself up.

“You look good, too,” Seungkwan tells him, feeling how tender and red Seungcheol’s lips are beneath the pad of his thumb.

“Am I getting better?” Seungcheol asks.

Seungkwan laughs. “Yes,” he answers, “ _so_ much better.” Seungkwan pulls Seungcheol down for a kiss then lets him latch on to his neck so he can suck on Seungkwan’s skin until it hurts before trailing down again to take Seungkwan in his mouth.

Seungcheol relaxes his jaw and takes Seungkwan in deeper then goes back up slowly to suck on the head. He trails kisses down the length and laps up at the base, making Seungkwan keen. Seungkwan’s torn between looking and closing his eyes, settling instead for staring at the ceiling as he tries to keep quiet, knuckles white from how hard they were fisting the sheets. Seungcheol takes him in his mouth again and bobs his head up and down faster.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” Seungkwan pants, “I think I’m—oh, Jesus, I’m so sorry—” He watches Seungcheol lift his head, spluttering a bit, come staining his lips and dripping down his chin in a thin line. “Are you okay?”

Seungcheol wipes off the come on his chin with his thumb then sucks on it, staring at Seungkwan as he straightens up into a sitting position between Seungkwan’s legs, and Seungkwan may or may not want to take a picture of him like that and make it his wallpaper or something. “It’s kinda okay,” Seungcheol remarks. “Kinda salty. Feels gross, though.”

“Like how?” Seungkwan asks.

“Like phlegm?”

“You could’ve, like, spat it out, you know…” Seungkwan suggests, giggling.

Seungcheol shrugs. “Where? It felt kinda awkward, so I just… But you could’ve warned me.”

Seungkwan nudges him with his foot. “Hey, you didn’t stop,” he grouses.

“I don’t mind it,” Seungcheol says. He lowers Seungkwan on his back and crawls on top of him, brushing their noses together. “You taste good.” He kisses Seungkwan, and Seungkwan should find it gross after having a mouthful of come, but he kisses back and slips his tongue inside Seungcheol’s mouth.

After a while, when both of them are less hazy, Seungcheol rolls out of bed, finds his underwear in the mess of clothes on the floor, and puts it on, tossing the other pair to Seungkwan, who puts it on underneath the covers.

“I have a paper to finish,” Seungcheol explains as he walks to the table and starts up his laptop.

“Do it here,” Seungkwan whines, patting the empty space next to him on the bed. Seungcheol heaves a small sigh but lies down on the bed anyway, laptop perched on his thighs. They barely fit—like this, the wall is cold and hard on Seungkwan’s back and Seungcheol side is right on the edge of the bed—but Seungkwan wants to make it work, snuggling underneath the covers even closer to Seungcheol, curling up by Seungcheol’s side until his head is also resting on Seungcheol’s stomach.

Seungcheol pets his hair, smoothing it down, and Seungkwan would purr if he could, his eyes threatening to slip shut from the relaxing, repetitive motion. Instead, his eyes drift to the academic paper Seungcheol’s reading, annotated and highlighted with comments, and he can’t understand anything, let alone the cryptic additions Seungcheol made. After that, Seungcheol opens several other tabs as well as his half-written paper.

“It’s ‘states’, not ‘stats’,” Seungkwan says, and Seungcheol clicks his tongue as he highlights the word and rewrites it.

“Thanks, babe,” Seungcheol murmurs, ducking his head down to press a kiss on the top of Seungkwan’s head.

“I wish I could help you more.”

“You’re doing a lot already.” Seungcheol goes back to another window and reads off it then types up something in his draft. “Sometimes I finish right before the deadline, so I don’t have time to proofread it,” he adds.

“Yeah, but I mean, I want to give you substantial help.” Seungkwan pouts. “I feel kinda dumb not being able to talk to you about these things. Like, offer my opinion, you know? And not feel like you’ll brush it off?”

“That’s not why I like talking to you, though,” Seungcheol says with a frown, though he’s still typing up his paper. “Like, at the end of the day, stuff like calculus or critical theory isn’t what I want to talk about? Especially when I’m with you.”

What the hell. Seungkwan is all choked up, tears forming at the corners of his eyes, while Seungcheol is composed and still thinking of the proof to a theorem or whatever.

“Seungkwan,” Seungcheol says softly, “you don’t have to be invested in everything about my life because we’re together. You don’t have to learn the same things I do.”

“I want to, though.” Seungkwan’s voice rises barely above a whisper. The light from the setting sun is streaming inside the room through the windows, the purpling sky following afterwards. Seungkwan gets up and faces Seungcheol, watching the light colour his face as he says, “I don’t want to be someone easy. Like, mentally easy. You’ll get bored of me soon.”

Seungcheol sighs and stops writing, though his eyes are still fixed on the screen. “I haven’t yet.”

“ _Yet_.”

“You said you were working on your self-esteem thing.” Now Seungcheol’s looking at Seungkwan, and Seungkwan can feel his insides wither at the look he’s being given. “What do you call this?”

Seungkwan shakes his head and forces himself not to cry. He can’t cry in his underwear then do a walk of shame back home from the university grounds. Instead, he turns his back to Seungcheol and draws the covers up to his chin. Seungcheol starts typing again.

“I’m not sure I know how to deal with you anymore, Seungkwan,” Seungcheol admits quietly, and Seungkwan just wants to go home and start sobbing, curl up on the couch next to his mom and maybe wail a little. “I love you a lot, but I’m pretty sure it’s for everything you don’t like about yourself, and, like, maybe I thought that if you saw how much I like everything about you? I don’t know. I’m not looking to date another me or someone who’s always on the same wavelength with me.

“But, you know, if you don’t want to be yourself, then I—”  Seungcheol stops himself, and Seungkwan’s terrified of what he suspects Seungcheol was about to say, and that means even Seungcheol Choi’s run out of patience with him. “Maybe we should break up?”


	3. we’re [crying emoji] [heart emoji]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [black moon emoji]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M REALLY SORRY IT TOOK THIS LONG 
> 
> I'm so tired tbh and so many things have happened in my life since I last updated so going back to this was a bit like stepping back in time? haha. I started writing exactly five months ago—it was a scene from this chapter, written when I was drunk—and I'm finally at the end so I'm so relieved and happy and excited??? 
> 
> I made a lot of mistakes writing this entire fic, like wanting to make it nonlinear so the events jump around and stuff. I completely eliminated that aspect in this chapter because I was like……… Kristine……… why did you write it like that……… not to mention a bunch of other stuff I wish I left out but I really thought at the time that they were essential to the fic haha oh well
> 
> tbh I'm still very nervous posting this. you'll see why in a bit but still, thank you so much for bearing with me, with this fic, with my OTP. I know they're not the most attractive ship but idk the support I get for my 2Seung fics always gives me hope and gets me going so yes so much love for you!!! thank you!! please enjoy!!

Seungcheol’s pillow still smells like him, and it makes Seungkwan want to vomit from how much he’s into it and how much he’ll miss it when he’s gone and how he thinks it’s so great despite there being a faint hint of sweat underneath the clean smell of Seungcheol’s shampoo. (His stomach is rolling, too, turning itself inside out, and he thinks he’ll vomit for real but he gulps it down and tries to even his breathing.) Seungkwan buries his face further into the pillow.

Eventually, the silence becomes too much for both of them to handle, and with the feeling that neither of them would budge, Seungkwan breaks the silence, whispering, “Take that back,” harshly, his back still turned to Seungcheol.

Seungcheol sighs. “I can’t,” he replies gently. “I already said it.”

“Do you mean it?” Seungkwan asks. When Seungcheol fails to answer, Seungkwan gets up to slap Seungcheol’s shoulder. “ _What_?” he demands. It’s annoying how Seungcheol still isn’t looking at him, taking each hit Seungkwan gives him with stone-cold silence while he continues to look at the half-written paper on his laptop, and Seungkwan is briefly impressed and proud that Seungcheol could still work on his paper given… what’s happening, but it gets overtaken by the anger and dread that maybe Seungcheol doesn’t care enough to take him seriously right now. “Take it back right _now_ , Seungcheol Choi, or—”

“Or what? You’ll break up with me?”

“Just take it back,” Seungkwan whines, stopping short of an actual wail. ‘I’m not breaking up with you when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,’ he wants to say, but it gets caught in his throat and rises up in the form of bile. His cheeks are burning with indignation and he wants so much to hide and cry or just kiss him quiet, but instead, he watches Seungcheol get up and place his laptop back on the desk, the creak the bed makes breaking the silence that falls on them again.

Seungkwan wants to hit himself for ogling the backs of Seungcheol’s thighs and for wanting to run his hands over the smooth flesh when Seungcheol returns and sits on the bed with his legs tucked under him.

Seungcheol’s directly in front of Seungkwan now, reaching forward to take both hands in his, which is probably for the best, the warm touch soothing Seungkwan more than he had any right to admit. “Listen to me,” Seungcheol says quietly, with a clear and strong voice. “I don’t want to break up with you. You know that, right?”

“I do,” Seungkwan mumbles. He’s waiting for Seungcheol to wrap his arms around him, tell him everything’s okay, that he’s sorry, that it’s all over, but it never comes, and Seungkwan’s heart sinks even further and the tears he’s been holding back start to well up in the corner of his eyes.

“It’s also hard for me to watch you crap on yourself, okay?” Seungcheol rubs his thumbs on the backs of Seungkwan’s hands, constantly but silently urging Seungkwan to look at him square in the eye. “Seungkwan, I love you so much. I want you to feel that you’re amazing.”

“Okay, but—” Seungkwan bites his lip then asks, “You expect me to do that because you do it? Because you love me?” Everything sounds silly. He feels silly. He wants to withdraw his hands from Seungcheol’s grip but he can’t; Seungcheol’s laced them together with his, their palms brushing. “It’s not enough anymore, Seungcheol. I don’t think it ever was.”

“You’re throwing my words back at me.”

“But that’s what you meant, right? That it’s an issue I can only deal with myself?” Seungkwan thinks Seungcheol’s annoyed, frustrated; his face twists through different emotions before it settles into realisation then into a frown.

When Seungcheol speaks, his voice is so quiet, barely above a whisper. “I was wrong, you know. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Seungkwan wants to hit him so bad, and he’s again thankful that Seungcheol’s holding him like that, otherwise he really would—he’d pull on Seungcheol’s hair and punch him on the nose, even if it’ll get the nose Seungkwan likes so much all crooked. Instead he raises his eyebrow at him and demands, “Then why’d you say it?”

“What, I can’t change my mind? I had time to think about it, and I probably should’ve told you something different—”

“Which you never told me,” Seungkwan cuts him off.

“I’m telling you now,” Seungcheol says with slight force. “I’m not leaving you to deal with your crap yourself, alright? I’m here.”

Seungkwan smiles uneasily. “Hey,” he begins, “can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re really not into those college girls?”

They fall into silence, and Seungkwan has no idea why it’s so quiet, if Seungcheol’s thinking up of ways to break it to Seungkwan that he does but not really—

Seungcheol bursts into laughter, soft and unsure but it’s bubbling up anyway, breaking the silence. “Are you asking me if I’m gay, Seungkwan Boo?”

In a small voice, Seungkwan replies, “…I might be.”

“Sucking your cock isn’t enough for you?” It’s relieving that Seungcheol sounds more amused than anything, until he sobers up and he asks Seungkwan, “Why are you asking? Don’t tell me you’re not sure.”

“I’m not saying _I’m_ not sure,” Seungkwan says, and he wants to shut up so much, but the words spill out of his mouth in place of the vomit he’s been holding back. “I’m saying _you’re_ not sure, Seungcheol ‘I don’t swing that way’ Choi. Besides”—Seungkwan wants to kick himself for this—“straight guys have always been my type.”

“I’m—” Seungcheol’s face twists. “Okay, yeah, I see how that can be a problem for you… I just— Uh, I love you, right?”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “Yes, Seungcheol, I know, but are you _gay_?”

“Gay for you, maybe?” Seungcheol answers with the shaky laugh that he gets when he’s all nervous and flustered. “Do I see myself with another guy? I don’t know. Not really? I mean, isn’t there a girl you’d be straight for?”

“Uh… no?”

“Oh, okay.” Seungcheol bites his lip.

Seungkwan sighs. “It’s a simple question, Seungcheol. Jesus, your hands are sweating.” At that, Seungcheol lets go, and Seungkwan wipes his palms on the bedsheets. Seungcheol wipes his on his shirt, bunching up the material in his hands.

“I’m serious, though. I really don’t know. I just know I’m attracted to you,” Seungcheol says. “You’re the only guy I ever thought about.”

“I’m flattered.” Seungkwan really is, though, and everything that’s been pushed out of his mind—talking about Little Cheol, Seungcheol saying his name when he comes—is coming back to him, all making him feel like he’s been bitchy for nothing.

“Yeah, you should be.,” Seungcheol teases. He reaches for Seungkwan’s face, cupping it in his hands, thumbs digging into the flesh of Seungkwan’s soft cheeks. “I mean, I don’t think you’d like it so much if I liked other guys, right?” Seungkwan lets himself smile. “Besides, I really liked your letter—”

“Please don’t. Jihoon hyung said you only liked it ‘cause no one ever liked you.”

Seungcheol snorts. “Liar. People like me.”

“I’m sorry you’re so popular,” Seungkwan deadpans.

“Okay, like, let’s be real, we wouldn’t have gotten together if it weren’t for me, right? Getting to know you messed me up.” Seungkwan cuts him off with a snort of his own, sticking his tongue out at Seungcheol while he covers Seungcheol’s hands with his palms. “First, I was like, ‘Okay, I gotta protect the gay kid’, you know? You were a freshman and probably didn’t have a lot of gay friends in school. Then…”

“Then what?”

“Don’t know.” Seungcheol shrugs. “I started finding you cute. It was fun messing with ya, too… until I told Josh that I wanted to hold your hand and he laughed me out of his house.”

Seungkwan giggles. “ _I_ would laugh at you if you told me that.”

“I’m just saying, I thought we resolved this already. You kept turning me down, so I was thinking that you just wanted to be sure and didn’t wanna be played.”

“It took a while, okay,” Seungkwan says slowly. “Like, for me to realise that you really like me.”

“How long?”

“Remember when you made me skip school to hang out with you at the park?”

It takes a while for Seungcheol to register what Seungkwan’s just said, but when he does, his eyebrows knit together and he goes, “ _That long_?”

“Okay, but, a guy like you coming up to me and asking me to be his boyfriend? It’s like… I had to keep telling myself it’s real. I’m really lucky.” Seungkwan crinkles his nose and pouts. “You keep making me say stupid stuff, Seungcheol.”

“So what was everything about? Your self-esteem issues?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Seungkwan admits quietly, shaking his head. “I was being stupid just ‘cause, like, you’re doing great at everything and I wanted to be like that, too. And, like, I was entertaining this thought that—Okay, never mind.”

“What is it?” Seungcheol’s voice turns stern. He asks, “That I like you because you like me? That because I never had a relationship, I’m willing to be with you for the sake of it?”

“Please, Seungcheol, you got all these girls here like that Cameron person? Really pretty and hella smart… I can’t compete with that. I’m still in high school,” Seungkwan tells him. “I know jack about postmodern art in the twentieth century, and I honestly don’t care.”

Seungcheol smiles. The warmth of his hands on Seungkwan’s face was getting too hot. “Everyone knows jack about postmodern art in the twentieth century.”

“You college kids like pretending you know so much but you just learned it maybe a week ago,” Seungkwan grouses “And what do I know? I’m the flaming gay high school kid who’s never had a philosophy class.”

“Maybe I like that you’ve never had a philosophy class so I don’t have to pretend I like it,” Seungcheol teases him. He brings his hands down to Seungkwan’s neck and his mouth closer to Seungkwan’s ear, his whisper hot and breathy. “I like the flaming gay kid a _lot_.” Then he trails his mouth until he meets Seungkwan’s lips, kissing him softly, chastely. “He has a nice dick, too,” he adds when he pulls away, and that isn’t chaste at all.

“Seriously—”

“No breaking up, okay? Not this time, at least,” Seungcheol says. “I love you too much for that.” He pulls Seungkwan into a hug, and the relief, the realisation, the solidness of Seungcheol’s body pressed against his has Seungkwan’s heart catching in his throat and he floods, sobbing into Seungcheol’s shirt and soaking the material, his fingers digging into Seungcheol’s back.

“I’m so sorry,” Seungkwan hiccups. Seungcheol just holds him tighter and rubs circles on his back. “I’ll be better.” Seungkwan wants to protest when Seungcheol lifts his head up to kiss him because he’s covered in snot and tears and Seungcheol never seems to mind even though Seungkwan just gets so grossed out by the thought of some snot coming into Seungcheol’s mouth just because he wants to be sweet, but he lets Seungcheol kiss him anyway and even returns it, taking Seungcheol’s bottom lip between his and sucking on it.

“You do it for you, okay?” Seungcheol breathes when he pulls away, rubbing the tip of his nose on Seungkwan’s, and Seungkwan almost forgot what it was they were talking about before they started kissing. “Make yourself proud. I’ll just be here.”

“So cheesy,” Seungkwan complains with a wrinkle of his nose, but he smiles so widely at that, his cheeks hurting, and he squeezes Seungcheol as tight as he could, resting his chin on Seungcheol’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

 

***

 

“Hyung is really smooth,” Mingyu says with a laugh as he turns the corner. “Pass me a can, will you?” Seungkwan cracks open a can of cold coffee and passes it to Mingyu, who drains it all in one go.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan says with a shy smile, while moving his head to the [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N9XKLqGqwLA) Myungho started playing from his playlist, the one apparently he made specifically for car rides on the off chance he wants to feel like he’s in a coming-of-age teen indie movie or something, and Seungkwan really doesn’t want to admit that that song kind of worked, because everything before that was too emo and angsty for a drive at six in the morning. “Good thing I was being stubborn, too.”

Myungho grins at Seungkwan, looking up at him from where he’s seated, leaning forward and elbows perched on either backrests. “Didn’t know you had it in you, kid.” Seungkwan rolls his eyes at that and sips on his own can, offering some to Myungho, who juts out his lips so Seungkwan would feed the coffee to him.

“So what now?” Mingyu asks. “Is he gonna, like, bring you out on a special date or…?”

“I’ll tell you what’s next,” Myungho says. “Kwannie’s gonna get it up his butt and our dear Seungcheol hyung won’t be a sad virgin anymore.”

Seungkwan’s face colours, and Myungho laughs. “We haven’t talked about that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, like, I think I’m ready now, but—”

“It should be spontaneous,” Seokmin offers, and Seungkwan wants to punch him in the nose.

“It can’t be,” Seungkwan shoots him down. “Like, we’d have to buy the stuff, and getting stuff up your butt’s, like, deeply emotional and scarring.”

“So you gotta be prepared,” Mingyu says with a nod.

“Yeah!”

“Wait, so, you’re doing it with hyung?” Vernon asks, his voice thick with sleep. Myungho’s just nudged him awake, trying to draw the hood of jacket back down, but Vernon tugs on it and keeps it over his head, pulling it down past his eyes. 

“We’re graduating today and this is what we talk about,” Mingyu grumbles. He pulls into a Dunkin Donuts and turns off the engine, the music coming to an abrupt halt. Seokmin and Vernon are quick to get out of the car, and Myungho follows not short after. When Mingyu realises they’ve all gone, he asks Seungkwan, “You sure? About hyung?”

Seungkwan looks at him for a bit, entertains the cheesy thought that he wouldn’t know what he’d do now that Mingyu Kim won’t be around to tell him straight, then just nods and says, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Mingyu just smiles at him. “Good. You kinda messed him up a lot back then, you know? What was it, Seungcheol hyung’s great gay crisis of 2014? “ He makes a face. “Eventually, Josh hyung and Vernon told him to just go for it. It worked out anyway, so whatever happens, I trust you.”

“Thanks,” Seungkwan says with a smile. They both leave the car to get in line for breakfast sandwiches and iced coffee. Myungho waits with them, taking a large bite out of his own sandwich and making a show of how delicious he finds it. He takes a huge slurp from his coffee, too, the loud annoying one from when the drink is more ice cubes than coffee, then lines up with them for another.

“Rude,” Mingyu scoffs, still making the face he made when Myungho started slurping.

“Your fault for staying in the car too long,” Myungho tells him with a shrug. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Mingyu wraps an arm around Seungkwan and adds, “Told him to take care of Channie next year.” Myungho’s eyebrows knit together at that.

“Who’s Channie?”

“The guy who always does Michael Jackson songs in the talent show,” Seungkwan answers. 

Myungho just laughs. “Never went to those, kid.”

When they finally get their food, they head back to the car, with the rest following them, and pop open the back of Mingyu’s car so they can eat there instead. Myungho gets emotional for a bit when Seokmin reminds him that call time for graduation is in less than four hours, weakly punching Seokmin on the shoulder, then yet again when Vernon says he’ll miss them.

“Shut up, kid,” Myungho says with a grit of his teeth, but he pulls down Vernon’s hood so he can ruffle his hair then pull him in for a hug with his scrawny arms.

“Gonna cry, Myungho Seo?” Seokmin teases.

“Go to hell, Seokmin,” Myungho grumbles. “I actually like the kids.”

“I like them, too,” Seokmin says, “but I’m not crying.”

“Whatever,” Mingyu tells Seokmin with a laugh, “you’re gonna be bawling like a lil’ baby later at Jenny’s afterparty.”

“Drunk Seokmin,” Myungho explains to Vernon and Seungkwan, “is either a flirt or a crybaby. Sometimes he wins at card games.”

“Don’t play suck and blow with Myungho,” Mingyu warns.

Seungkwan laughs. “Are you speaking from experience?” he asks, and both Mingyu and Myungho colour.

“You can come to the afterparty and find out,” Seokmin suggests, and now both Mingyu and Myungho tell him to go to hell, making him laugh even heartier. “But for real, you should come. I’m going back to Korea tomorrow then I gotta bring my stuff to DC as soon as I get back.”

“Jenny should’ve marketed the afterparty as everyone’s last chance to see Seokmin Lee,” Vernon says.

“Everyone loves me,” Seokmin says with a happy sigh. Myungho snorts. “Have you seen the yearbook? I’m most charismatic.”

“That doesn’t make you most loved,” Myungho counters, and Seokmin pouts, sipping on the dregs of his iced coffee in silence. “Sorry, dude.” He scoots closer to Seokmin for a hug that Seokmin acknowledges by patting Myungho’s arm.

“Sure.”

Mingyu gets up first and stretches his arms up and back, his shirt lifting up as he does so. “Hey, clean up; we gotta get going. Stop cuddling or whatever.” Seungkwan gathers all the trash into one pile that he carries to the trash can, everyone all nice and settled when he gets back—everyone at the back asleep or getting there, happy and satisfied with full stomachs.

“Hey, talk to me,” Mingyu tells Seungkwan, “or I’m gonna fall asleep, too.”

“I was just thinking…”

“About what?”

“How to tell Seungcheol I wanna do it.”

Mingyu clicks his tongue. “Jesus, just tell him. You can be upfront about it, he likes that. Or, I don’t know, leave hints, make him know you’re thirsty.”

Seungkwan chokes. “I’m not—”

“Sure, you’re not” Mingyu cuts him off. “Getting laid is as easy as you want it to be, to be honest. Besides, with Seungcheol hyung? It’s really easy. You guys have been together for so long, he must be dying to do it.”

“So I just tell him.”

“Yeah.”

“And I should be blunt?”

“You won’t get anything if you aren’t,” Mingyu tells him, “right?”

Seungkwan sinks back into his seat. “Yeah…”

Later, Myungho does cry, and Mingyu chokes giving his speech, but Seokmin’s fallen asleep while the student roster is being called and hasn’t woken up until everyone was taking their caps off.

 

***

 

“You really wanna do this?” Seungcheol asks, his face split into a wide grin as they go into the aisle for condoms and lube and contraceptives. He’s been a nervous ball of energy since Seungkwan dragged him inside the drugstore and whispered something in his ear. “Really?”

Seungkwan pinches him on the arm and nods, dragging him closer to a shelf full of condoms. “ _You_ don’t sound so sure,” he grumbles, though he breaks out into a smile and bursts into giggles anyway. “Pick one.”

“Do you like flavoured ones…?” Seungcheol picks up a box of lemon-flavoured condoms and tries to open it. The box opens up, revealing a set of bright yellow condoms in clear wrapper, and he takes one of them and brings it up to his nose, his eyebrows knitting together. “This one smells really good.”

“Do you want me to give you a blowjob with a condom on?” Seungkwan asks gently before laughing because Seungcheol just blanks out. Seungkwan plucks the box from Seungcheol and kisses him on the mouth with a small giggle. “It’s an option, okay? Maybe your parents gave you something and they don’t know.” He puts the box in the basket.

“How about flavoured lube, then?” Seungcheol asks, pointing at a bottle high up on the shelf. “That one.”

Seungkwan goes on his toes to reach for it and reads the label with a noise. “Bacon? So… you want my butt to taste like bacon…”

“Not your butt,” Seungcheol says quickly.

“Where else are you going to put this?” Seungkwan demands. “Don’t tell me you’re going to feed it to me.”

Seungcheol thinks about it for a bit, eventually suggesting, “Your fingers?”

“What?” Seungkwan makes a face. “No, okay? No flavoured lube. Just get the normal one there.” He points at a bottle, the only one whose brand he recognises, and Seungcheol gets the largest bottle. “Should we get normal condoms?”

“How about these?” Seungcheol asks, and Seungkwan’s grin gets so wide he feels his cheeks hurting and twitching.

“You’re not that big, Seungcheol Choi,” Seungkwan tells him with a loud laugh. He pats Seungcheol on the back as Seungcheol places the box back on the shelf, then scans for the plainest-looking box he can find and puts that in the basket.

“Are we good? Unless you also wanna buy the morning-after pill…?”

“We’re not buying lingerie?” Seungkwan asks. He bursts out laughing when he sees Seungcheol’s cheeks colour and leans up to him so he could pinch Seungcheol’s cheek and kiss him. He whispers, “Nervous?” while his fingers play with Seungcheol’s hair, rubbing the locks with the tips of his fingers. (They feel rough and a little dry, not that Seungkwan really minds.)

“A bit, yeah,” Seungcheol admits, smiling a little too widely at Seungkwan. “It’s a big responsibility.”

“A responsibility,” Seungkwan echoes.

“Yeah. I can’t let you get hurt,” Seungcheol says. 

Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “That’s part of it.”

“I can’t let you get hurt _too much_.”

“You won’t,” Seungkwan reassures him. “I trust you, okay? I trust you with my butt. I know what I’m getting into. I know what’s getting into _me_.”

Seungcheol nods. “More than I do, I think.”

“You don’t watch gay porn?”

“No?”

Seungkwan grins at him. “We should go home,” he says. Seungcheol matches his grin and brings him and the basket to the cashier.

The walk home is quick and quiet—Seungcheol holds the bag of stuff in one arm and holds Seungkwan’s hand with his free one all the way to Seungkwan’s bedroom, where he sets down the bag on Seungkwan’s bedside table while Seungkwan boots up his laptop. They get on the bed side by side, the laptop perched on Seungkwan’s thighs, and Seungcheol points out one of the videos on the page while the thumbnails load.

“That one looks okay,” he says, and Seungkwan rolls his eyes, trying not to laugh so much for Seungcheol’s sake, and clicks on the link anyway.

“I think you got a cheesy one.” Seungkwan groans as soon as he hears the terrible dialogue. “Oh, god, you picked a daddy one, ew,” he whines.

“Change it.”

“Yeah, I am.” Seungkwan goes back to the main page and clicks on one with a good-looking guy on it. He leans back and settles into Seungcheol’s chest, purring if he could when Seungcheol presses a kiss to the crown of his head.

Seungcheol lets out a gasp. “Is he—”

Seungkwan giggles. “Yeah.”

“They both like it? Wouldn’t it taste like poop?”

“You clean up beforehand,” Seungkwan explains. “I mean, I guess you can do it without but… I don’t know, I’d feel better if we took a shower before doing it.”

“Yeah, okay,” Seungcheol concedes. “So when?”

“I don’t know. Uh, school starts on Monday, and I really don’t want to go to school with a sore butt.”

Seungcheol goes quiet for a bit, which makes Seungkwan realises he’s a little too into the video to speak. Seungkwan reaches out a hand to palm him through his shorts, and Seungcheol arches up into it, groans a little. It turns to a whimper when Seungkwan digs the heel of his hand in, increasing the pressure.

Soon, Seungcheol’s hand covers Seungkwan’s own, and instead of adding to it, Seungcheol turns Seungkwan’s palm up and laces their fingers together before bringing it up to his lips to kiss, which is enough to make Seungkwan scoff.

“Hey, stop it,” Seungkwan says without much bite to it, and Seungcheol just hums.

“I honestly don’t know what I was expecting,” Seungcheol admits. “It looks the same.”

“You liked it, though,” Seungkwan teases.

“I did. So… not Sunday night.”

“Maybe Friday night?”

“ _Tomorrow_?”

“We’re ready!” Seungkwan tells him. “I mean, we have the stuff for it, so you just need to be, like, in the zone.”

“I’m in the zone, but also—” Seungcheol bursts into laughter again, and it makes Seungkwan give him a tired smile. “I can’t believe we have a schedule for it.” Seungkwan closes his laptop and sets it down on the bedside table, too, so he can cross his arms.

“I’m not saying you have to bring me out on a date and bring me home and wait for me to shower and get my butt clean…” Seungkwan shakes his head, then adds, “I kinda want that, though.”

“We can,” Seungcheol says. “Definitely.”

“Will you buy rose petals and scatter it on my bed?”

Seungcheol moves around the bed until he’s caging Seungkwan in his arms. “Do you want that?” he asks. “The rose petals and the scented candles and an old John Legend CD?” Seungkwan shakes his head no, so Seungcheol just laughs, ducking his down to kiss Seungkwan. “But you want me to be gentle,” he says in a low voice.

Seungkwan sighs, “Yeah. Take it slow, okay? It’s going to suck a lot for me.”

“Mm. Do you still want dinner?”

“Duh.”

Seungcheol moves on to Seungkwan’s neck, and it’s getting harder for Seungkwan to really think about if he’s missing something important in his mental lists of things to do for tomorrow. “How about I come here at eight—”

“Sure—”

“Have your mom cook us dinner—”

“God, I hate dating a college student.”

“Good plan?” Seungcheol’s down to where Seungkwan’s bellybutton is, mouthing at it through the fabric of Seungkwan’s shirt, making a damp spot on it. 

“What if my mom hears us?” Seungkwan asks, slightly worried now.

“We should be quiet, then.” Seungcheol’s gotten to the waistband of Seungkwan’s jeans. He pops the button open and pulls the zipper down before tugging on it.

“I’m serious, Seungcheol. She never gave me the Talk. What if she was going to soon?” Seungkwan’s cock gets pulled out of his pants, half-hard and red. Seungcheol trails kisses along the length, making Seungkwan hiss. “Hey, I’m freaking out. What if she’s totally against gay guys having sex?”

“Seungkwan,” Seungcheol says, voice clipped and slightly stern.

“What?”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Shut up” is what he says before he takes Seungkwan in his mouth, slowly letting Seungkwan fill his mouth then moving back up to swirl his tongue into the slit. 

Seungkwan’s head falls back against the headboard. He lets out a loud groan, his nails scraping at Seungcheol’s scalp, and the sight of Seungcheol laying his tongue flat against the side of Seungkwan’s cock, dragging it across the length of it, makes Seungkwan’s knees go numb. “Seungcheol,” he says, voice shaky and breathy and high-pitched. Seungcheol only looks at him through lidded eyes as he lazily sucks on one of Seungkwan’s balls, his eyebrow raised.

When Seungcheol pulls away, lips swollen red and stained shiny, asking, “Did you want me to stop?” Seungkwan is just _so_ done with him.

“Are you _insane_?” Seungkwan nearly cries when Seungcheol goes back to sucking on the head, hips jerking up when he feels a slight graze of teeth. Seungcheol has to dig his hands into Seungkwan’s thighs to keep him steady, and they’re way too warm, almost searing into his skin. Seungkwan’s chest feels like it’s about to cave in, his stomach a tight mess of knots and heat. He places his hands on Seungcheol’s head, encouraging him to go deeper, but it doesn’t happen; Seungcheol moves back up to tongue at the slit, small and gentle flicks that make Seungkwan squirm, then pulls away when Seungkwan really _grabs_ at Seungcheol’s hair.

“Are you going to come?” Seungcheol asks with a pout.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Can you hold out a bit longer?”

“Why the hell should I?” Seungkwan demands.

“I really like doing this,” Seungcheol says quietly with a shy laugh, and Seungkwan _loves_ having it done to him, but his entire body’s been on a steady thrum for a good while; he feels like he’s forgotten what it’s like to not be so wound up. “You sound _so good_.”

“Come on,” Seungkwan whines, “let me—” Seungcheol’s stroking him, his fingers making a wide ring that barely gives any friction, then his thumb smears the bead of precome all over the head, and Seungkwan just chokes.

“What’s the magic word?” Seungcheol teases.

“Who _are_ you? My mom?”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, makes a flick with his wrist that makes Seungkwan cry out. “This can be over real quick if you stop being so—”

“So what?” Seungkwan’s probably as red as he feels, mouth falling open when Seungcheol places an openmouthed kiss on the head. “ _Seungcheol_.”

“Hm?”

“ _Please_.” Seungkwan wants to kick him so bad, but Seungcheol returns his mouth to his cock, hand stroking him while Seungcheol sucks, and it takes Seungcheol flicking his tongue against the slit for Seungkwan to come right into Seungcheol’s mouth, some of it staining and smearing on Seungcheol’s lips, running down his chin, and it’s so good but Seungkwan is so exhausted, his body trembling for what feels like forever. “ _God_ ,” he breathes.

Seungcheol licks his lips, pushes the rest of the come into his mouth, then goes back up to kiss him, tongue pushing past his lips. He strokes Seungkwan’s hair, caresses his cheeks. “Are you okay?”

“What is _wrong_ with you—”

“Tomorrow, right? I’ll bring you out.”

“Italian?” Seungkwan suggests.

“Whatever you want. Then we’ll come home, take a shower together—”

Seungkwan scoffs at that. “Don’t push your luck, Seungcheol Choi.”

“—and we do it, okay?” Seungcheol brings their faces together, the tips of their noses brushing, and kisses him again and again and again. “Okay?”

Seungkwan nods, his stomach burning inside of him. “Okay.”

 

***

 

“I love you,” Seungcheol murmurs against Seungkwan’s ear as he places his knee between Seungkwan’s legs. He has Seungkwan pressed against the wall of his bedroom with all the lights on so he could see how flushed red Seungkwan is, the tousled locks of hair that take on light when Seungkwan tilts his head back and groans, eyes slipping shut.

Seungkwan wants to roll his eyes, but with Seungcheol panting on his cheek, he’d rather not. 

“I love you,” Seungcheol says again and presses his lips to Seungkwan’s temple then to the corner of Seungkwan’s cheek; it takes a while for Seungkwan to remember that he has moles there, and the entire concept of Seungcheol liking them so much that he’s acknowledging them through kisses makes Seungkwan want to set himself on fire. Seungcheol’s lips find the other marks, three of them forming a line on the corner of Seungkwan’s ear. It makes Seungkwan giggle and smile so widely his cheeks hurt, and Seungcheol shuts him up, thumb hooked under Seungkwan’s chin as he brings his face closer to him for a kiss.

“You’re so cheesy,” Seungkwan complains when they pull away, his voice high and breathy, and Seungcheol just laughs, cradling Seungkwan’s face so he could kiss him again and again and again. He pecks on Seungkwan’s lips and nose, a line of kisses from temple to temple and down his cheeks to his chin, before coming back up to catch Seungkwan’s bottom lip between his, nibbling on it gently until Seungkwan begins to squirm and mewl against Seungcheol’s mouth and Seungcheol lets go so he can kiss the taut skin of Seungkwan’s throat.

Seungcheol’s breath is hot on Seungkwan’s neck, drawing skin into his mouth and sucking on it until a sharp pain shoots up Seungkwan’s throat and Seungkwan gasps, and Seungcheol’s still sucking on it, tongue warm and wet and rough as it licks over the sore spot. Seungkwan’s hard in his pants, grinding into Seungcheol’s hand when he palms him through his jeans, and he lets out a whine when Seungcheol increases the pressure, digging the heel of his hand into Seungkwan’s crotch.

“ _God_ ,” Seungcheol breathes, mouth now ghosting over Seungkwan’s collarbone through his shirt, hands reaching up to grab his hips and thumbs rubbing circles on the juts of bone on either side, “you’re perfect.” Seungkwan wants to cry, even more so when Seungcheol lifts his shirt up and over Seungkwan’s head, tossing it to the floor, then trails kisses from the hollow of Seungkwan’s throat down to a nipple, and he takes it into his mouth, flicking it gently with his tongue.

Seungkwan arches into it, hands flying up to tangle themselves in Seungcheol’s hair. It’s coarse to the touch but soft, shiny between his fingers. Seungkwan bites his lip and lets out a tiny moan, pulling Seungcheol by the hair to get even closer. When Seungcheol lets go, Seungkwan laughs at how pink his nipple is on his chest and at how red and shiny Seungcheol’s mouth is, but he’s also so into it that he drags Seungcheol by the hair to his other nipple, hips rolling against the knee between his legs.

He suspects Seungcheol wants to say something, but it only comes out as a groan before he places shaky kisses from the nipple to Seungkwan’s belly button.

Seungcheol frowns when Seungkwan sucks in his stomach. He tells Seungkwan to relax as he digs his fingers into the soft flesh, mouth parting in awe at how his fingers sink into Seungkwan’s belly, then puts his mouth where his fingers were, making sure to not leave a single inch untouched, and Seungkwan quivers under him, throat closing and eyes watering. Seungcheol’s lips are chapped and dry against his skin, but also gentle and persistent, coaxing. When he’s done going through every part of Seungkwan’s stomach, he goes over it again, a silly smile spreading across his face with every kiss.

Seungkwan lets out a shuddering breath, bottom lip trembling, and lets out a low whine of a cry as he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes so none of the tears escape. The room suddenly falls silent as he whispers, “What is your problem?”

“Are you crying?” Seungcheol asks softly, breath warm on Seungkwan’s belly and tickling, making Seungkwan laugh a bit, but it comes out garbled and snotty and wet and gross.

“No, you _moron_ —” At that, Seungkwan just ends up full-on sobbing.

“Shhh,” Seungcheol coos, trying to coax Seungkwan’s hands away from his face, but Seungkwan won’t let him, not until the tears stop flowing, “please don’t cry.”

“How can I not?” The pressure on Seungkwan’s eyes is making him see stars. He wails. He _sniffles_. “ _God_ , Seungcheol Choi…”

Seungcheol is a little more persistent now as he manages to take one of Seungkwan’s hands by the wrist and bring it to his mouth, pressing soft kisses on the pads of Seungkwan’s fingers and on his palm. He does the same with the other, Seungkwan’s body slack after being so tense, and takes two fingers in his mouth. Seungkwan, having nowhere to hide now, ducks his head down, and tries not to revel so much in how Seungcheol’s tongue feels so soft and warm, how he likes the look of Seungcheol kissing the back of his hand.

“C’mere,” Seungcheol murmurs. He cups Seungkwan’s face with both hands, thumbs brushing the tears away from his cheekbones, and brings his head down to kiss him. Then he kisses Seungkwan’s eyelids and the tip of his nose, despite Seungkwan withdrawing himself because his face is covered with snot and tears and he feels so gross about it and about how he just can’t stop crying. When Seungcheol says, “You’re perfect,” Seungkwan lets out another wail, his hands frozen by his sides and desperate to clutch at something.

“You can never look bad,” Seungcheol adds. “I’ll love you no matter what you look like.” He thumbs away Seungkwan’s snot, wiping it on his own shirt, then he catches Seungkwan’s lips in another kiss to muffle Seungkwan’s whimpering, and that’s when Seungkwan’s hands reach up to fist themselves in the soft fabric of Seungcheol’s worn-out t-shirt, letting Seungcheol kiss him until his brain turns hazy and his lips feel like nothing but tingles.

Seungkwan kisses him back, mouth parting more to let Seungcheol explore the roof of his mouth, meet his tongue. He makes a muffled groan, cock straining against his pants. The whiplash is crazy, from crying to grinding into Seungcheol’s hips, but it satisfies Seungcheol, who pulls away to ask, “Better?” at which Seungkwan just nods while Seungcheol brushes the hair away from his eyes and kisses his forehead.

Seungcheol wipes away the last of Seungkwan’s tears and gives him another kiss before moving down, bursting into giggles when his lips meet Seungkwan’s belly again. “Best birthday gift ever,” Seungcheol says as he grips onto Seungkwan’s sides, thumbs pressing into the softness.

“Your birthday’s gone,” Seungkwan reminds him weakly, smiling a bit.

“Shh, shh…” Seungcheol closes his eyes. “You’re spoiling the magic.”

That warms Seungkwan down to his toes, making him burst into nervous giggles. Everything inside him is bubbling and threatening to overflow, and all he can do about it is pet Seungcheol’s hair after having cried himself out already. His fingers are trembling. He lifts up his hips when Seungcheol pops the button of his jeans off and tugs them downward.

Seungcheol leans back on his heels while Seungkwan kicks them off his feet, leaving him completely bare against the wall and embarrassingly hard—

“ _Wow_ ,” Seungcheol exhales, the way he licks his lips and swallows and looks just so happy seeing Seungkwan naked for the first time making Seungkwan shiver in his place. When Seungcheol breaks out into a grin, he has his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Are you going to keep staring at me, or…?” It comes off a lot less smooth than Seungkwan would’ve liked, voice cracking a bit, and Seungcheol just laughs it off.

Seungcheol brings himself closer to Seungkwan, hands on Seungkwan’s butt, and puts the head of Seungkwan’s cock in his mouth. He hollows in his cheeks, his eyes flutter shut, eyelashes so long and thick that Seungkwan can make out each individual lash, and a groan comes out of Seungcheol when Seungkwan tightens his grip on Seungcheol’s hair, making Seungkwan’s toes curl into the wooden floor.

He takes Seungkwan in deeper, nose pressing against the curls of hair on Seungkwan’s base, and brings his head back up, eyes opening to look at Seungkwan as he slowly tongues at the slit of Seungkwan’s cock.

“ _Seungcheol_ ,” Seungkwan whines, his chest heaving as Seungcheol teases his tongue further into the slit, lapping up precome.

“Are you going to come?” Seungcheol asks with swollen lips. He frowns a bit, eyebrows knitting together. “Don’t.”

“You’re the worst,” Seungkwan chokes out.

Seungcheol winks at Seungkwan. “Good, right?” he teases, smug as he wipes his mouth.

“Shut up.”

“Okay,” Seungcheol says with a grin before taking one of Seungkwan’s balls into his mouth, one hand splaying itself flat on Seungkwan’s thighs, his fingers curling and digging into the fullness of it, while the other strokes Seungkwan’s cock. Like this, Seungcheol could most definitely feel how Seungkwan’s thighs are quivering and barely keeping him upright. He relaxes his jaw and lets Seungkwan brush his cock against the back of his throat, the sound of him gagging, wet and rough, making Seungkwan just want to get everything over with and thrust into Seungcheol’s mouth until he comes and come drips out from between Seungcheol’s lips.

Seungkwan lets out a whimper, high-pitched and needy, and he’s just so loud that he worries the sound travels through the house, but Seungcheol kisses the length of his cock, making small noises from the back of his throat as he goes all the way up to the head that he then grazes with his teeth so Seungkwan would let out a shout. He’d shut himself up if his hands weren’t so twisted into Seungcheol’s hair. Every inch of him is wound up, every breath catching in his throat. “ _Please—_ ”

Seungcheol hums and lets go of Seungkwan’s cock with a pop. He sits on his heels in front of Seungkwan, wiping his mouth with his thumb while his gaze rakes Seungkwan from head to toe. “You look like a lobster,” he comments.

Seungkwan wants to kick him. “Let me finish,” he whines.

“We haven’t done it yet.”

“We can keep on doing it.”

“Wouldn’t you be tired?”

“I’m begging you.” Mouth twisted in a grimace, Seungkwan looks down at Seungcheol, who’s fully dressed and still so composed, except for his hair, which stuck up in odd places after being manhandled, and his mouth, which is now red and swollen and tender. It’s so annoying, enough to make Seungkwan bunch up his hands into fists because he’s too much on edge.

A pause, then, “Oh my god,” Seungcheol breathes.

“What?”

“You’re really turning me on right now.” Seungcheol’s face flushes pink as he says it.

“Jesus _Christ_ —” Then, Seungkwan demands, “Get up; it’s my turn,” with his face burning beyond a salvageable point. He’ll get Seungcheol on edge, too.

Seungcheol gets up with an eyebrow raised at Seungkwan. Seungkwan rolls his eyes and closes the space between them, his hands splaying themselves flat on Seungcheol’s chest to feel the firmness of it before trailing down to the hem, tugging on it so Seungcheol could take it off. With his hands on Seungcheol’s chest, Seungkwan walks forward, stopping when the back of Seungcheol’s knees hit the bed so he can pull Seungcheol’s jeans down, dragging his underwear along with it.

“Lie down,” Seungkwan says, his voice breathy, and straddles Seungcheol’s hips when he gets up on the bed, his head propped up by pillows. Like this, he can feel Seungcheol’s cock twitch against his thigh, the tautness of his stomach when Seungkwan leans down to kiss him. He rolls his hips down onto Seungcheol’s lap until Seungcheol gasps against his mouth and his hand cups Seungkwan’s butt, bringing Seungkwan even closer to him.

“Just—” Seungcheol exhales. “Just keep doing that.”

Seungkwan grins and kisses him again until a persistent tug on his hair brings his head up. “What?” he asks, annoyed.

“I know we talked about it, but”—Seungcheol licks his lips, eyes darting to the bedside table, where the lube and condoms they bought were stashed—“can you… do me?”

It takes a while for Seungkwan to understand, eyebrows knitting together down at Seungcheol before he bursts out into a hearty laugh, realisation and arousal coursing through him. “God, that’s, like, the gayest thing you’ve ever said,” he quips.

“But do you want to?” Seungcheol presses.

“Uh, _yes_?” Seungkwan reaches for the drawer to bring out the stuff and sets them on the bed beside Seungcheol. Then he moves his way down Seungcheol’s body, leaving light kisses wherever he could reach, each one making Seungcheol jump and sigh, his body trembling and tensing then uncoiling. “So much yes,” Seungkwan breathes.

He settles himself between Seungcheol’s legs, pushing both up until Seungcheol is laid down and bare. The sight of his entrance right in front of Seungkwan has his palms sweating, and he just… wants to touch it so bad, it’s surreal. He pops open the cap of the bottle of lube and drizzles it over the fingers of his right hand, the left one remaining steady on Seungcheol’s inner thigh.

“This’ll hurt,” Seungkwan says. He presses his mouth on the warm skin of Seungcheol’s thigh, feeling it quiver beneath his lips, then looks up at Seungcheol, who already has hair plastered to his forehead and a neck shiny with sweat.

“I trust you,” Seungcheol tells him, and Seungkwan just nods, pressing kisses to his thigh as he circles a finger around Seungcheol’s entrance, getting it slick with lube before he pushes the tip of his finger inside. Seungkwan looks up to gauge Seungcheol’s reaction, giggling when all Seungcheol does is knit his eyebrows together and go, “Oh.”

By the time Seungkwan gets in all the way to the knuckle, he’s mesmerised, laying his cheek on Seungcheol’s inner thigh like it’s a pillow. He pulls out his finger slowly and inches it back inside, mouth parting in awe as his finger disappears inside of Seungcheol.

“You look so good,” Seungkwan murmurs. Seungcheol only lets out a groan. As Seungkwan goes on, Seungcheol’s groans dissolve into whimpers, hips lifting up to meet Seungkwan’s finger halfway. Seungkwan pulls away entirely to coat his fingers with more lube, and Seungcheol cries out, the sound making Seungkwan giggle.

“Not funny,” Seungcheol grouses.

“Sorry,” Seungkwan apologises, still giggling. “It’s just—You sound so _needy_.” He lifts up Seungcheol’s leg to place on his shoulder, mouthing at the knee. “I’m putting another finger in,” he warns. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Y-yeah…” Seungcheol lets out a low cry anyway when Seungkwan puts in the tips of his two fingers.

Seungkwan kisses where he can reach, coaxing Seungcheol’s whimpers away as he’s inching his way inside Seungcheol, until his fingers are knuckle-deep in. He pulls them out, and his mouth falls open at the sight of Seungcheol chasing his fingers with his hips. “Someone’s eager,” he teases, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t think Seungcheol looks hot like that. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“It does,” Seungcheol admits. Then, with a smaller voice—as if he’s shy about it—he adds, “But I feel empty without it.”

Good god, it’s like Seungcheol Choi was meant to be a bottom after all. Seungkwan closes his mouth and settles for filling him up with his fingers, the other hand reaching down to stroke Seungcheol off. At that, Seungcheol lets out a restless whine.

“I want you already,” Seungcheol groans, throwing his head back. His fingers are curling into the bedsheets, knuckles white.

“I’ll add another finger,” Seungkwan tells him, his face incredibly warm to the touch and his fingers trembling slightly as he pulls out all the way then circles three fingers around Seungcheol’s entrance. Like this, he can feel how tight Seungcheol is, how tense. Seungkwan clicks his tongue. “ _Relax_.” He kisses the underside of Seungcheol’s knee, massages circles on Seungcheol’s inner thigh with his free hand. “Relax,” Seungkwan says again, “okay?”

Seungcheol nods, his eyes slipping shut just as Seungkwan nudges the tips of his fingers in him. Seungkwan bites his lip, inching inside as slow as possible. He pauses every few moments to kiss Seungcheol’s thigh, mouth falling open at how stretched Seungcheol’s getting, though Seungcheol is still a mass of tight heat on his fingers.

“You look so good,” Seungkwan coos. He steadies himself by splaying his palm flat on Seungcheol’s stomach and presses on it lightly, Seungcheol’s leg falling out of its place on Seungkwan’s shoulder.

Seungcheol lets out a strangled gasp when Seungkwan crooks his fingers inside of him, his toes curling into the bedsheets, and he looks at Seungkwan with wide eyes and a high flush on his cheeks. It’s enough to make Seungkwan want to cry all over again, make him want to press kisses all over Seungcheol’s face. Instead, Seungkwan grins up at him, enjoys how Seungcheol tries to grin back, lips failing, and lowers his head to suck on the head of Seungcheol’s cock.

“Baby,” Seungcheol whines. One of his hands finds itself in Seungkwan’s hair, pulling sharply enough to spread warmth all over Seungkwan’s scalp, his nails scraping on the skin. When Seungkwan twists his fingers inside him again, his hips jerk up, cock hitting the back of Seungkwan’s throat, but Seungkwan takes it anyway until Seungcheol’s panting, “I’m gonna come—”

Seungkwan pulls away with a frown. “Don’t.” He slips his fingers out of Seungcheol, too, then sits back on his heels, placing both hands on top of either Seungcheol’s thighs. “Are you okay?” he has to ask. Seungcheol nods. “I’m gonna put on the condom now, okay?”

“I’m fine,” Seungcheol tells him with a weak laugh. “My ass hurts like hell, but I’m too turned on to care.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes at that. “Sure,” he says in a clipped tone before ripping open the condom packet with his teeth and rolling it on. He adds in a lot more lube than is probably necessary given how Seungcheol’s entrance is already slick and shiny with lube, but he doesn’t think there’s ever going to be too much lube for Seungcheol Choi, whose legs are trembling around Seungkwan’s waist when Seungkwan gets into position, aligning his cock with Seungcheol’s entrance. “Ready?”

“No?”

“It’s never too late for me to bottom, Seungcheol Choi,” Seungkwan teases, but Seungcheol, still with eyebrows furrowed and with so much audacity, shakes his head. “You sure?” Seungcheol nods, and Seungkwan laughs.

When Seungkwan nudges the tip of his cock inside, Seungcheol pinches his lips together so hard they turn ghostly white before they fall open and he groans. “Okay, okay, okay, okay—” Seungcheol’s so tightly wound up that Seungkwan can feel him tense underneath his fingertips, which were placed on Seungcheol’s hips to keep both of them steady.

Seeing Seungcheol so open like that, thighs quivering and face bright red and contorted every which way, is such an experience, but Seungkwan thinks he looks similar since he’s holding his breath until he’s all the way in, then he heaves a sigh. Seungcheol, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut and nose scrunched up so tightly that Seungkwan’s scared it’ll leave permanent wrinkles, so Seungkwan leans forward until their stomachs brush and cages Seungcheol’s head with his arms, trying to keep his lube-covered hands away from Seungcheol’s face.

“Seungcheol,” Seungkwan says gently, and Seungcheol’s eyes fly open, “breathe.” It’s so hard finding Seungcheol Choi sexy with the minor freakout he’s having about having a cock inside of him—though the whimpers he’s making is enough to get Seungkwan’s guts burning, he needs Seungcheol to relax… not to mention the low-key chill Seungkwan’s losing because Seungcheol isn’t even hard anymore. “ _Breathe_ ,” he says again, a bit more sternly now, and Seungcheol lets out a shuddering exhale, which Seungkwan happily kisses him on the cheek for. He coos, “Good boy,” into Seungcheol’s skin, enjoying how Seungcheol’s quiet gasp at that makes his fingers tingle.

Seungkwan waits for a bit more, lets Seungcheol adjust to the sensation, then pulls out and slowly thrusts back in. He covers Seungcheol’s trembling mouth with his, making Seungcheol focus on kissing him back, which Seungcheol does—he even wraps his arms around Seungkwan’s neck and arches his body up to meet Seungkwan’s so little space is between them.

They soon establish a rhythm. Seungcheol wraps his legs around Seungkwan’s waist, heels digging into Seungkwan’s tailbone to make him go deeper, and Seungkwan responds by stroking Seungcheol back to full hardness, making Seungcheol throw his head back against the pillow and whine as Seungkwan drags his fingernails along the length.

Everything is cramped and hot and sweaty, but after a few more thrusts, Seungkwan is coming with a low groan, muffling it by placing his mouth against Seungcheol’s neck. He stays like that, hips stuttering to a stop, and jerks off Seungcheol with his shaking fist. Seungcheol comes with a loud cry, enough to make it an outright _shout_ , and Seungkwan has to shush him despite his giggling.

“You have to try it,” Seungcheol breathes. “ _God_ , that was—” He licks his lips then bursts out laughing. “That was _intense_. I’m still shaking.”

“Yeah?” Seungkwan brings his head back up to kiss him, basking in the hand Seungcheol has in his hair, ruffling and petting it. He lifts his hips up to pull out entirely then reaches down to slip the condom off and toss it to the floor without ceremony. Seungcheol turns his head to see the used condom lying on the floor then looks back at Seungkwan with his eyebrow raised. “I’ll clean that up later,” Seungkwan explains with a wave of his hand, before returning to kissing Seungcheol, though he stops again when he realises his hands are grossly covered in lube and Seungcheol’s come is becoming a smeared mess on both their stomachs. “Okay, you know what? I’m gonna go clean up now.”

He gets off of Seungcheol to grab a towel from his closet, stopping on the way to pick up the used condom to throw in the trash bin. When he comes back, having wiped his hands and stomach with the towel first before cleaning up the come on Seungcheol’s stomach, Seungcheol’s pouting at him.

“You didn’t tell me your butt was that cute,” Seungcheol grouses. Seungkwan rolls his eyes.

“You’ve never noticed my butt until now?” Seungkwan counters.

“I have,” Seungcheol protests. He reaches forward to cup Seungkwan’s ass in his hand, giving it a slight squeeze. “Just not in person.”

“What the hell is your language, Seungcheol Choi,” Seungkwan demands, heat rising up again in his cheeks. He throws the towel dirtied with come at Seungcheol’s face. “Whatever. You’re all clean now.” The towel falls off the side of the bed.

Seungcheol laughs and brings Seungkwan down on the bed and on his stomach, caging him with his limbs. He presses a kiss on Seungkwan’s nape before going down his back, his hands blindingly warm where they stayed on Seungkwan’s back, searing through the skin. At the tailbone, Seungcheol’s mouth parts, blowing hot air on Seungkwan’s skin before nipping on the curve of Seungkwan’s butt.

Seungkwan nearly kicks him in the stomach, his entire body shivering from the contact. He folds his arms in front of him and lays his head on them as he tries to cool his face down after the realisation that _Seungcheol Choi is going to eat him out—_ not that the realisation prepares him for Seungcheol propping him up on his knees and spreading his cheeks open. A giggle escapes his lips; there’s a cool breeze on his entrance and the openness is strange, all his attention gravitating towards Seungcheol’s tongue licking a stripe up his crack.

Seungcheol sighs in contentment, and Seungkwan, for all of his tiredness and sleepiness, is getting hard again, his thighs quivering. Seungkwan lets out a low moan when Seungcheol dips his tongue into him, his entire body burning from the wet, obscene sounds Seungcheol’s tongue is making that sound like they’re straight from (exaggerated) porn, and it’s enough to get him to snake a hand down to touch himself, stroking slowly as he grinds into Seungcheol’s mouth.

He’s just so _done_ when Seungcheol groans at that, at how deep his voice gets when he’s turned on, at how Seungkwan’s quivering all over and aching to come. “ _Jesus_ , Seungcheol—”

“Do you want to come?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Seungkwan whines, wriggling his hips to get Seungcheol’s tongue back on him, and he’s never imagined that he would ever literally be in this position. He rubs precome all over his head, a groan coming out of him, and when Seungcheol tells him, “Go,” he comes with a shudder and a shout, spilling come past his knuckles and onto the bed, then collapses, sated and too lazy to even lie down properly.

Seungcheol lies down beside him, trails a hand down his back. “How was it?”

“How was it?” Seungkwan repeats lazily, then bursts out laughing. “You have to try it.” Seungcheol brings himself closer to Seungkwan to kiss him on the temple then on the cheek, his nose brushing against the shell of Seungkwan’s ear. “Wait,” Seungkwan pipes up, “are you still hard?”

“Yeah, but”—Seungcheol pulls away to yawn—“I’m too tired to take care of it.”

Seungkwan yawns, too. “Same.” Seungcheol chuckles softly, kissing Seungkwan on the temple again then on the crown of his head and playing with locks of Seungkwan’s hair between his fingers. Seungkwan’s so warm; he shifts closer to Seungcheol to get even warmer.

“I know you hate it when I’m cheesy,” Seungcheol murmurs, “but—”

“Now is not the time for ‘I love you’.”

“I love you.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes, but it’s not like he isn’t smiling into the pillow, the tips of his ears going red. He feels amazing about the hand curled around his waist and the warm body pressed against his, content with sleeping like that. After a while, he says, “I love you, too,” and he feels Seungcheol smile against his cheek right before he dozes off.

They wake up together and burst into giggles, and Seungkwan doesn’t even turn away when Seungcheol pulls him in to kiss him before getting up to put on some clothes. Seungkwan tosses some clothes to Seungcheol and watches him put the shirt on.

“Your bed’s covered in spunk,” Seungcheol remarks, pointing at the mess of dried come on the bed. Seungkwan rolls his eyes.

“I’m cleaning that up later.”

“Why? It’s gonna get dirty again.” Seungcheol laughs and ducks his head down when Seungkwan picks up one of their dirty briefs from the floor and throws it at him.

Downstairs, Mrs Boo plops down two large bowls of rice porridge in front of them. “I found fresh abalone in the market,” she tells them. “It’s good for body pains.”

Seungkwan, despite Seungcheol glaring at him through his lashes, bursts into laughter and digs in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao I wanted to talk about Seungcheol's sexuality and the fluidity of it??? idk it's always been such an important concept to me, and the whole idea of 'fuck it, I like what I like' definitely has its own appeal, different from making a whole bunch of labels to describe oneself. 
> 
> but yeah I want to hear your thoughts on this!!! hit me up here and idk scream at me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/coups_d)??? 
> 
> BRUH I'M JUST SO GLAD I GOT TO WRITE MY OTP HAVING SEX THAT IT WENT OVERBOARD I'M SORRY HAHA


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